#mr bruce x reader

[kimhargreeves]

Concert Confessions-Ian Bruce x Reader (The Correspondents)

Summary: You've been long time friends with the boys from The Correspondents, the mutual pining between you and Bruce is making your friend Tim desperate for you both to just date. You decide to do the impossible before their concert at night.

(This is based on the English band The Correspondents. I was about to write a fic soon, but saw someone asking for someone to write so I volunteered! So this one shot is for the person who accepted in me writing it. @atomicbug Hope you enjoyed it!!)

It's been many years since I've known Bruce and Chucks known as Tim also but his closest friends call him that. I've been with them from the very beginning, meeting both of them when we were still studying. I used to see them always hanging around with each other until eventually I met Bruce in art class, i was enamored with his work from the very start.

We started with small conversations until it started with hanging out at classes and spending almost everyday together. I still remember the same day easily getting along with Chucks like we had been friends for years.

It took a while until they finally started a band together and started touring and meeting fans with their unique music and still continuing to be themselves. I absolutely loved their music style and how artistic they are

I started working alongside with them as well, thinking and worrying that I wouldn't be able to see them often, well sometimes I would work with them whenever I was free since I started working alongside with a company in making music as well.

Today is one of those days where I would be hanging out with them and finally being able to see Bruce. Often they would insist on me working with them on a song, or sing on stage but I was afraid of what their fans might say if they were to see a female with them, clearly having feelings for the bands singer.

"(Y/N)!" I heard voices calling out to me. I turned around as I stood in line at a cafe, many people weren't around anyways so I turned around and shrieked when I saw my best friends.

"Guys!! You're finally here!" I exclaim running over to them and hugging them tightly, they hugged me back until we parted and we smiled.

Chucks almost hasn't changed a bit, and Bruce continues to look the same as ever with his glasses and neatly styled hair. Both of them were wearing jackets because of the cold weather.

"We're happy to know you accepted the invite." Bruce said looking down at me since I was shorter than him since he's tall.

"You know we'll I'd never say no to you." I smile as I blush looking up at him.

I hear a hum and I glanced and saw Chucks smiling at us both but said nothing. I knew well what that smile meant.

"It's nice to know that, you've always been our number one fan after all." He said as he reached down and patted my head.

The three of us stood in line ordering whatever we wanted to eat, I blushed when Bruce would get close to me. I could feel my heart beating faster whenever I am next to him, these feelings for him hasn't faded a bit at all.

"Why don't you both head back and grab a table? I'll be there with our food." Chucks said to us both, before I could follow Bruce I felt Chucks grab my arm.

"The tension is killing me here, (Y/N). Please just confess your feelings to the lad, you've both been pining each other for years now. I'm getting old here, woman. I want to be an uncle soon!"

He joked but that only made me only more embarrassed. "Shhh I'm getting to it!" I said making sure no one listened what we had said.

I composed myself and quickly followed Bruce until we sat down on a table with him sitting in front of me. "It's really nice to be able to see you again." was the first thing he said when we sat down.

My face must've looked like a tomato due to how hot I felt. "It's n-nice to see you again! I really missed having you around."

"I also noticed that you dyed and cut your hair." He said reaching up and touching my hair. "It suits you. I think you look even more pretty than before."

How am I supposed to answer to that? I felt like passing out. I smiled at him still blushing as I tried my best to hide my face, "You're way too kind, Mr. Bruce." I say making him chuckle as he adjusted his glasses.

"Tell me, (Y/N). How's life been treating you lately? Any news going on?" He excitedly asked getting himself comfortable in his seat.

I chuckled and shook my head. "Nothing much has changed, same work, same schedules, my parents visited me last week and I took them around my working place, I will say things have been a bit weird."

"Hmm? How come?"

"There's been a guy around who hasn't stopped asking me for lunch at work..hmm? Everything alright, Ian?"

"Everything's fine!" He exclaimed and made an odd look. I shook my head and took my his hands in mine.

"There's nothing to worry about, I declined his offer since I've been too busy, besides he isn't my type."

Bruce sighed loudly and seemed relieved at my answer. "It might sound selfish but I'm glad you declined. Who would be there to protect you if something were to happen to you."

I looked at him and noticed he was blushing as well, still not letting go of my hands for a second. "Thing's haven't been easy on tour lately, there's something that's been stuck on my mind ever since you left a year ago."

It had been a long while since I had seen the boys. I wonder what he's been hiding from me. I will say seeing him again makes me want to have him all to myself and not leave.

"I'm back!" We quickly let go of each other and looked at Chucks surprised. "Here's everything we ordered, dig up fellas."

We nodded and began to each at the many desserts we ordered and noticed Bruce has ordered my favorite dessert, he still remembers that I used to order it almost everyday before heading to classes.

"You know tour has been very fun, but there's just one girl who hasn't stopped trying to call this guy." Chucks said almost too loud for the building to listen.

I've known him for being dramatic so I don't know wether to believe in him, but I decided to play along. "Oh really?"

"Has that woman tried calling me? I haven't noticed." Bruce said drinking his coffee. "Besides no woman can be as equally charming as I am."

"Hmm that's true. You are too flamboyant." I said making Bruce almost choke on his coffee. Chucks and I laughed. "I'm just joking..I actually really love how weird, quirky and how artsy you are. You're just my type." I smiled.

Chucks took a sip of his tea and looked at us, "Just date already you lovebirds."

The lights to the stage were dimly lit with the crowd of people calling out the bands name. People all around us were making the final adjustments for the show tonight. Everyone was too busy to stop for a second to speak, wires were being brought up on the stage, microphone stand was adjusted along with keyboard's were being placed in it's correct spot.

I stood aside so people wouldn't run into me or each other, leaving them to do their job. The stage was nearly done.

"(Y/N)." I looked to the side and noticed Bruce now dressed at his finest, in a black suit with matching tie. He looked very handsome. I look to the side to shy to look at him, seeing him dressed like this always stirred something in me.

"You're almost ready for the night?" I asked leaning against the wall and Bruce did the same, crossing his arms and looking at me.

"Almost ready. There's just one thing missing. Come on." I was taken back when he reached down and grabbed my hand pulling me close to him as I followed him.

We made it to the other side of the stage without being seen and stood behind a black curtain, we were all alone. Bruce stood behind me and leaned down to rest his head on my shoulder. I could feel my heart beating faster, could he hear it as well?

"See those people out there." He pouted without moving from me. "They're all here because of you. If it weren't for your support we never would've made it. This is all for you, (Y/N)."

Bruce now began to hug me from behind and I reached up and held him. "I haven't been myself for a year, you're the only person I've been thinking of whenever I have to travel."

I looked up at him and now stood in front of him when he stopped hugging me. He reached his hand and held my face, "I love you, (Y/N). I always get upset when I have to see you leave, won't you stay here and make me the happiest man alive?"

I began to shake and tears began to fall down my face, making Bruce panic when he saw me crying. "Did I say something to upset you?!" You asked concerned.

Quickly I shook my head not wanting him to get upset thinking he had said something we shouldn't have said. "It's nothing like that!" I assured wiping my tears and looking back up at him through his glasses.

"It's just… I've always secretly liked you from the start and I didn't want to get your career involved is all."

"You should never feel like that. All the time you were away, I kept on drawing and making paintings of you, as cheesy as it sounds it made me cope with you bro being around."

That's too sweet. "Ian Bruce… I've always loved you too. I'll make sure to not leave you then." I blushed and took a step closer and I wrapped my arms around him and leaned up and pressed my lips against his.

I felt him hugging me back and deepening the kiss, I had my hand tightly held onto his suit and felt his hand behind my head. Slowly we parted and before we could exchange words someone ran into us and hugged us.

"About time you both confessed. It was dragging on for far too long." Chucks hugged us both and seemed like a proud parent. "I love you both, but he was driving me crazy with always talking about you while on tour. He even said he's writing a song about-"

"That's enough." Bruce said trying for Chucks to not comment on the topic.

"Well, I can't wait to hear my boyfriend's new song then." I smiled looking at them both.

Bruce seemed to blush at the mention of the word 'boyfriend'. "Boyfriend..I love the sound of you saying it." He came over again and kissed the top of my head and hugged me.

"How about after the show we all head out for drinks? My treat for you both." Chucks said winking making us blush again.

Before we could go on talking, they were being called on stage, now ready for the big concert. I wished them both luck when they ran on stage and I stayed behind with the rest of the team behind, ready to enjoy their big night.

[martiniluvr]

the hand placement…the size difference….somebody sedate me

[miguel-owhora]

omega!batman's the type of guy to capture your attention by letting his pheromones linger in the air, the enticing scent of an omega in near heat making your legs move before you can think.

just to end up in an alley with the darkly cladded hero in the back, with the bottom half of his gear removed. his pussy—plumped and framed by neatly trimmed pubic hair—is soaking wet with his slick, his pretty cock—small yet still noticable—poking out with interest.

naturally, being quiet is in his nature. but the relief he gets with your cock thrusting in and out of his burning cunt even has him being louder than usual. of course in this case, being louder than usual means he's quietly grunting and biting his lips. he has to bite down on his fist when he ends up squirting—fuck, he didn't even know he could do that—around your knot when it catches on his hole.

[thesharktanksdriver]

Being a Magical Girl in Gotham (Platonic)

Part 1 Part 3 part 4

A continuation from the last part. I think I’m gonna later add stuff about y/n meeting other hero’s and villains plus some oneshots instead of just headcanon stories

Once again sorry/not sorry if characters are out of character . Also this is continuing y/n’a journey of continually getting more villains and hero’s to adopt them lol.

Y/n is literally becoming these Criminally insane villains’s emotional support child lol. And y’all can’t stop me from making that happen

Months within your friendship with Damien your a regular visit to the Wayne manor

And Damien is more than pleased with this since he now gets to brag to his older half-brothers

You can only giggle as the youngest Wayne drags you away before any of the others are able to talk to you

Damien at the manor enjoys spending time out in the garden with you

Having small picnics as Titus lounges beside the two of your in the grass near the expertly planted gardenias in full bloom

Turns out he likes helping Alfred with the garden quite a bit

Turns out he likes helping Alfred with the garden quite a bit

Turns out he likes helping Alfred with the garden quite a bit

Turns out he likes helping Alfred with the garden quite a bit

Turns out he likes helping Alfred with the garden quite a bit

Turns out he likes helping Alfred with the garden quite a bit

They even planted a small raspberry bush that only the two (now three) of them knew about

It’s rare to feel as if sunlight was a thing in Gotham but out here it’s almost rare that there wasn’t a beam of golden light hitting your face

If you make a flower crown for Damien he’ll wear it with a bit of bitching but the minute his brothers make a comment about it he’s pulling out his sword

Speaking of which, he shows you his sword collection!

An honour only you get to see without the threat of being stabbed as an extra bonus

He has a wide array of them, all from different areas of the world and different time periods

It’s actually really impressive

(Definitely asks if you want one and plans to get you one as a gift)

His room is bigger than your apartment and half the shit there would cover 4 months of rent

You don’t mention this though

He has a lot of imported furniture from what looks to be the Middle East and Asian descent

If you ask about it he’ll actually be really happy to explain their origin and history

He’s very passionate about history and seems to have a ton of knowledge on all arrays of most countries

Definitely gets worried when you mention have cup noodles for dinner 4 times in a row and demands you stay for dinner

You do and it ends up being really fun

At school after that he makes sure Alfred packs an extra lunch for you to have

Mr Wayne himself is actually really nice and much different from the Himbo he’s often portrayed as by the press

He’s extremely friendly to you, always offering a smile and small hello when Damien drags you off to wherever

He doesn’t seem to mind you being in his home infact he seems to encourage it

When Damien had chased his brother Dick around for trying to spy on you and him Bruce sat down and talked with you

He actually thanked you for making his son happy

Also asks if maybe he could speak to your parents sometime

You just say that their usually really busy abroad but you’d that get a letter from them since you don’t have a phone

You can tell by that alone he’s worried, like real worried at the thought of you basically living alone in a city like Gotham

A week later you forge a note from penguin lol. That man has good handwriting but definitely lost a few years on his life when you said it was for faking a note from your nonexistent parents

Bruce might be considering to adopt you and his sons are fully encouraging this

At some point in going to the manor you began sometimes helping Alfred with some small chores by delivering Bruce’s tea

He finds it to be a pleasant surprise and give him more opportunities to speak to you

Bruce finds you to be a impressive young lady. One who’s wise beyond their years and someone who has a unknown but similar weight on their shoulders

It worries him since he sees himself in your eyes

He begins connecting some dots about the rumours he’s heard about some young girl vigilante?, he’s not sure what exactly to label them as

But isn’t 100% sure it’s you since they apparently look 17 and your clearly 15

He puts a pin in it though

Anyways you can bet that he’s now inviting you to his gala’s so Damien more at ease plus give you a nice night to relax

He pays for clothes and even gifts them to you afterwards

The minute he finds out your an orphan you best bet he’s pulling out the papers-

Dick is super excited to meet you! Minus the fact that Damien is basically hissing at him and dragging you away

When he does get to speak to you he kinda reminds you of Nightwing with how pleasantly chatty he is

He asks about how your school is, if your enjoying your stay and what you think of lil Dami etc

Probably suggests to Damien about having you over for a sleepover and that he’ll take over his patrol for that night

Damien his heavily considering it

Probably calls you stuff like “kiddo!” And some alternation of your name

Has Alfred bring you and Damien snacks when y’all are hanging out

Listen he’s just really invested in the fact that Damien has a seemingly normal friend whom he cares for

It means he’s learning and adjusting to a relatively normal life outside of being Robin which was something he always worried about

Like Bruce he kinda gets worried about how your parents are apparently abroad and left you, a 15 year old child alone in Gotham of all places

Gets even more worried when you refuse to get a ride home

Sometimes spies but always gets caught and chased off by Damien who’s slightly annoyed

He means well

When you join for dinner he likes to tell a lot of stories and listen to your own

Basically already considers you a part of the family and is waiting for Bruce to slap out those papers

Might try to pry about who’s your favourite superhero just to see everyone at the table silently hope

His hope is crushed when you say it’s Wonder Woman

Then Everyone’s hood is crushed when you say your favourite male superhero is supermen

Clark probably hears their crushed souls from metropolis lol

Tim is just plain confused and wonders if your being paid or need help

He might love Damien as his little brother but he also has the scars to prove that little shit ain’t always a law abiding citizen

When he does realize though that Damien didn’t threaten you nor is paying you (why did he even jump to that conclusion?) he finds himself curious

Bruce forbids him from looking through your entire internet history and trying to find every possible trace of your existence

You notice early on how he’s addicted to coffee (just like Nightwing mentioned about red Robin)

Like with Bruce you help Alfred and deliver him some from time to time

This along with the limo rides with him and Damien give you the chance to actually talk to him

He’s really passionate about his goals, talking about his passions and plans in life

He seems to be hard working like you are, but to a worrying degree where he pushes himself to the limit (like you do)

It’s somewhat worrying to you as you find him lunched over his laptop with 6 empty mugs of coffee and bags under his eyes

You can’t say much since that would be hypocritical

But that doesn’t mean you can’t distract him for a bit as to give home a break he desperately needs!

You use Rigel to get his eyes away from his computer screen. The small white ferret making him pause as he scoops them up

Also riddles galore, some of which you might’ve borrowed from Riddler (he’d be so proud)

He’s pretty determined in getting to know you after a while, figuring out what you like and don’t, or what type of food you preferred

It might kinda seem a bit creepy at first but you realize that this is his way of trying to show his care. Odd but kinda amusing once you realize he told Alfred and now you have an entire menu catered to your taste

At some point he might’ve peaked at your records and is confused when he can’t find anything

He hasn’t told Bruce but he’s getting more worried when he digs deeper to see you seemingly live alone in a shit part of Gotham

Realllly wants to tell Bruce but also doesn’t cause that’ll mean he disobeyed him and might get another “friendly” visit from Damien’s batarangs

Whoops…oh the pain of being too smart

Jason shows up one day while your hanging out with Damien out of fucking nowhere

Like your just laying in the grass, petting Titus and then bam there’s a shadow looming over you

He seems kinda pleasantly surprised that “demonspawn” has a friend

Teases the shit out of Damien in front of you in a very big brother kinda way

Whenever he stops by he brings McDonald’s like a cool bring bother or uncle

Damien complains it’s bad for your health but stops when you mention that McDonald’s is something you can barely afford so you appreciate the free food

He may be a little shit but he’s not gonna be an asshole about that…at least not anymore compared to when he first arrived

He occasionally picks you and Damien up from school or drops by at lunch to deliver some special food from Alfred

One day when Damien was sick and it was raining hard when you didn’t have a proper jacket her gave you his leather one

He let you keep it, saying that he had plenty of other one’s and that you suit it better

Mentions literature a lot, even seems to have a small version of pride and prejudice tucked in his pocket

Jason likes to joke that his white streak in his hair is from learning about Damien having a BFF now

Damien in return calls him geezer and encourages you to do the same

He’s the person who immediately notices when you have any bruises other than Damien

Reallly tries to convince you to let them drive you home when you once mentioned the area you live in

He’s gonna get more white hair if you mention the fact that your apartment doesn’t have a proper lock on it and you have to prop a chair against the door

If Damien doesn’t gift you that sword soon he’s gonna give you a pocket knife

He fucking adores Rigel, loves it when the interdimensional god ferret lays in his hair

Takes photos and jokes that their now his white streak

You caught him using a baby voice with Rigel and his brothers won’t let him live (hah) it down

Alfred is half convinced that your some type of universal sign by some god lol

Best grandpa

He secretly bakes you and Damien cookies just for you two and even leaves some that have chocolate chip smiley faces

As stated before by Damien’s request he begins making you a lunch as well for Damien to deliver since he wants you to have a good meal

God knows how much he has wanted another calm person in this household

Sometimes in your lunches you find little bundles of fresh lavender and notes saying “have a splendid day” and “do your best”

He really appreciates you helping him out even though he didn’t ask. He mostly lets it happen so you have the chance to spend time with other members of the family

He makes little treats for Rigel

Due to Tim he has your taste narrowed down and always makes sure to have your favourites when you visit

May or may not have thought of room decor if Bruce adopted you

He senses your an orphan. He just knows but wants the others to figure it out rather than saying it

If you’ll indulge him he loves talking about old films and classic literature like Dracula

He was actually the one who introduced Jason to it and would love to turn their two person book club into 3

Finds Rigel very cute and lets the small animal curl around his neck

He finds it really nice if you want to join him in cooking and would most definitely teach you new recipes

Except his cookie recipe cause that one is a pennyworth family secret

You once tried to lie about not being sick and he gave you a knowing look before giving you a care package of his chicken noodle soup and some medicine

Your half convinced he’s not human but not in a bad way, more of a “is he a god?” Or “is he like Rigel” sorta way

You get legal advice from Harvey about the entire ordeal. The past DA offering to do more than just legal advice if you’d like

You say that you want to handle this on your own so he and two-face relent

But not before saying that the offer stills stands

Both Harvey and Two-face enjoy your presence for various different reasons but the important one is that you treat them as their own separate people

With Harvey you talk to him about what it was like going to collage and being the DA

He often talks about his friendship with Bruce and their crazy times when they were younger

He often wonders how he’s doing

You want to tell him but know that doing so could reveal who you possibly are

Probably tells you if the time Bruce “accidentally” poured wine on an asshole professor in a white suit after harassing a few female students

Probably tells you legal loopholes that your not supposed to know but you appreciate it anyways

Two-face on the other hand is kinda more difficult to talk to but once you get past his walls he talks and talks

Most definitely tells you how to pick locks and evade taxes, I’m sorry but that’s what he’s gonna teach you

At some point he probably offers to “talk” to your landlord about why he illegally raised your rent

Tells you about how corrupt the world actually is

Teaches you to flip a coin

He and Harvey get a lot of bouts of pain due to the burns so there are times they’ll go quiet out of trying to deal with it

With maybe a little magic from Rigel you make a special burn cream that helps alleviate that pain

Listen…you get he’s a bad person and all but you don’t like seeing people in pain

It’s been that way ever since you were young and having to watch kids your age suffer

Maybe it was always in your nature to help others no matter how much it weighed on you

It’s probably the reason why Rigel had chosen you in the first place

Yeah, that makes sense

Mr freeze is kinda a sad grandpa that you find yourself visiting to check up on

You had fought his shadowmite when the anger from his wife’s condition rose up again

After that your welcomed to his small lab for as long as you can due to the cold

He often laments about Nora. How she would’ve loved to meet you

You always say that she will one day which gets a small melancholic smile

You can only spend up to maybe 30-45 minutes with him before your begin to freeze despite you changing your magical uniform to better suit the temperature

If you request it he’ll show you how to ice skate and finds it really amusing if you succeed and then slip into a pile of snow

Speaking of snow, you like to leave little snow men hidden around for him to find

He sometimes talks to Nora’s body about you when alone. He mentions how he’s been feeling a bit better as of late due to you popping by

You don’t know this but he and Nora always wanted a child. So having you around kinda helps fill a hole in his heart that he long thought was frozen over with grief

I like to think that in his spare time he’s taken up knitting and made you a pair of matching mittens, scarf and hat

Their a teal blue with little snowflakes designs on them with maybe a little hidden snowman

He sometimes sneaks in ice or snow puns to watch you process it for a minute and then laugh

It makes his day

Probably tells you that if you need a good murder weapon he can make you a good icicle that’ll melt away therefore removing evidence

It’s hard to think he’s a super villain until he brings up shit like that

If you literally give him anything as a gift he’ll end up cherishing it

You actually end up meeting Waylon by accident in the sewers since you use them as a kinda secret passageway across Gotham

Your surprised at meeting the literal giant man who looks like a crocodile but you don’t end up panicking much

Same shit different day in Gotham

He lets you pass and even guide you to where you needed to go

After that it kinda becomes a system of meeting him and talking as he guides you through the Sewers (even if you knew them by heart at this point)

You like giving him leftovers that you have even if you also need them

The two of you now have a small tradition of sitting and enjoying a cup of ramen once in awhile

He teaches you a few French phrases and tells you of New Orleans

Talking of the mixed French and American culture of the city

At some point he probably tells you to visit for him if you get the chance. You promise to do so and being back a souvenir for him

Of all villains you feel the most sympathy for him. Someone who was born with something that they couldn’t control and being ostracized by society for it

Eventually becoming what they feared in the first place to survive

At some point you trust him enough to tell him about how you live alone. Barely getting enough to scrape by and living in a shitty apartment after running away from an orphanage

He lets you sit on his shoulder despite the fact you can basically fly a few feet off the ground

Also likes to mess up your hair with his giant clawed hands

He always makes sure to be slow just in case cause he doesn’t want to accidentally hurt you. You tell him he doesn’t and that you felt with worse but that in turn makes him even more gentle in being near you

During the winter you buy him a heater incase his condition also leads him to being cold blooded (which he is)

He definitely appreciates it since winters are really rough for him

Definitely finds the contrast of cute, small innocent magical girl and then giant, hulking, scaled lizard man being friends to be hilarious

During this time you begin to notice the Shadowmites kinda begin to thin out

It makes you a bit more relaxed and off guard (big mistake)

What had initially started out as a small gathering of them soon evolved into them all attacking at once

Biting and clawing as you did your best to stop them

By the end of it your left barely conscious, their hosts left laying on the ground passed out from having their energy drained

You could only hope they’d be ok as you find yourself stumbling towards the only place you could think of

Library

You move purely out of instinct, your body moving on its own as your weakened abilities help you move from rooftop to rooftop

Today was luckily one of the days you’d meet up with Hood, at least meaning if you passed out there you’d be relatively safe since your apartment was too far away

When you get there you almost sob out of relief when seeing his red helmet that matched the colour leaking from your form

Dark blotches of red contrasting against the lighter colours of your uniform

[allzelemonz]

I went on AO3 for fics and was disappointed yet again, so I made a list of who I'm vibing right now. All of them had under ten fics (not counting my own). Who should I tackle first?

[your-favorite-god]

POST INCOMING, BUT OTHER WRITERS HELP

THE BROTHERS. MF. SUN.

Its immaculate, incredible,amazing, fantastic, god tier, available on Netflix

I haven't finished the season yet, but I'm on EP 4. And I need someone to write x reader.

Please gods.

I beg.

And SOMEONE SAVE PRETTY BOY, HE DIDNT DESERVE TO GET KERSPLODED

It wasn't even exploded or was KERSPLODED

Update: I finished it.

Someone write SOMETHING- PLEASE

[hepburnswan]

if i did lenny x reader would anyone read it

(i will probably do it either way)

[wobbly-fluggers]

"What would I do without you?"

Lenny Bruce x Reader

Summary: you were Lenny's manager could you manage anything more then a dead succulent probably not but when there's a will there's a way... you hope. There had to be cause you're absolutely in love with him and hope that maybe he could be with you.... far fetched if you were being honest but a girl can dream.

------

We're you a fan? Yes, yes you were. Was it pathetic how much of one you were? Yes, yes it is. Was it creepy almost? Probably? Did you really care? Not really. You could have a crush and go to his shows and be there waiting with a grimace... it could if been a smile if you weren't so chicken...

But you were, and instead of just going up to the guy and saying he I like you I find you infuriatingly attractive and absolutely hilarious would you like to get a drink with me? You said I uh I want to be your Manger.. yep just like that.

You're such an idiot.. you had no clue about the business. Comedy..really? You were an engineering major what would you know about getting gigs you'd have to talk to people you chose engineering so you wouldn't have to.

Here you were though waiting for Lenny. The man of your dreams sorry client to finish his set having just got a call from your mother how she was able to track you down to this bar you would never know but she did. But besides the point you were waiting for Lenny to be done his set to let him know he was on fire only for the cops to come.

They loved to bust him for obscenity...and as his manager you had to try and get him out of it.

"Hey woah what are you doing he has the right to be there." You interject them before they can put hand cuffs on him stepping stright in between so he was behind you and you acted as a wall.

"Get out of the way little lady you shouldn't be in this place anyway."

"Happy we came in before you had to hear anything too unpleasant."

"Sir I think you misunderstand-"

This short conversation was long enough for Lenny to be thrown into their car as the had side stepped you entirety you were fumming after them as Lenny chuckled.

"Goddamn it! I'll see you at the station jackass!" You yelled as you flipped off the police officers in the front seats.

Pulling out a cigarette you muttered how it was just your luck to have to police show up at the one gig that could've been your chance of getting Lenny on TV. Since becoming his manager in 1954 you had first sent him to rehab for his strung out tendencies and then you has taken away any of his abilities to get any sort of drug fix that wasn't weed.

You were able to do this because for some reason he listened to you followed your words to the best of your ability. If you said refine this joke refine he did. If you said get another suit cause it looks like he only had one he got two... total.

But there you were now standing waiting for him to be released. In a very grouchy mood. Paying the bail with the money you made from the gig he was arrested from. You made sure to get the money the minute you two got there. A policy of yours.

A policy. You scoffed look at you thinking like you know a damn thing about this business. You're just persistent and sometimes you offer to fix up anything that needs fixing at the bar free of charge but did you care not really.

Was way better than that dumb office job you used to have. You were glad you saved every penny you earned before your parents cut you off cause you would've been flat broke-

"Hey! Doll! What are you a girlfriend? Or something?"

You said your next words a bit to bitterly in hindsight, "Or something" 

"You his manager?" The officer who had called you little lady earlier asked. You didn't realize Lenny was skipping down the steps as you said

"Nice job officer fuck face you really connected the dots on that one" You're tone was angry.

"Hey watch it lady!" He growled at you. The lady at the front desk decided to interven lecturing you

"You'll catch no man's attention being so fowl." You noticed her signal to your unringed hand.

"Yeah? Well suck a lemon sugar putts." You say in a fake sweet tone.

"Thank god your boyfriends here get her the hell out of here before you have to bail her out" the officer who called tou doll said.

You turn to see Lenny grinning like a Cheshire cat getting to you in a few long strides and locking arms with you.

"Well be on our way" Lenny almost sung in amusement.

"Hey! Woah I'm not done!" you say breaking away from him instantly regretting the lose of contact. But your anger was too high who the hell were they to just violate free speech and then basically say you were Destin to be alone... okay maybe not that.. and maybe you need to fix your priorities abit but it all was the same to you at that moment..

"Aye! Fuck you! Fuck you! And especially Fuck you!" You grabbed there attention again as you procced to flip off officer 'doll', officer 'little lady', and that bitch receptionist in that order respectively.

Lenny laughed as he dragged you out of there. Chuckling he mumbled,"Nice job officer fuck face," shaking his head with light laughter

"More angry than I am." He mused as you two walked down the street.

"Yeah well its been a bad night." You hissed.

"Thank you for informing me I was shit tonight ill try and be shittier the next time your majesty" Lenny joked he had some ongoing bit of you being royalty or something.

"Are you kidding you were in fire tonight-" you said with a seriousness that made Lenny stop joking and look at you, "You are extremely talented and shouldn't need to 'behave yourself' to be up on that stage. That's where you belong." You said it firmly, "Don't worry I'll deal with the court stuff. You go home."

"And what will you do?"

"Go kiss ass at some club to get you to preform there... in other words my job. You get out of here you already did yours."

"Yeah, really? What? Get arrested for the hundredth time? Half those people that come there are there to see if I do or not." 

"Still paying to see you which means money in your pocket... which by the way here you go.. abits gone cause bail cost money these days consider it my cut."

The bail was no were near the cut of profits you normally get but you had money and a part time job that gave you more money you didn't need it like he did. He had a kid to think about.

"Let's eat." He said. You guess he realized as he tried to give it back indirectly

"Maybe in the morning," you offered a slight smile," I have work to do."

"But you're done for the night."

"Says who?"

"Says me."

"Lenny you're really good at your job but I'm better at mine. I gotta keep food on your table somehow." You say with a shrug and a whole load of fack confidence, "besides my day doesn't end till I go to sleep." You grin a real grin a grin you hide normally. You had been walking away from it so he only saw a distant one but he returned it.

"You're gonna be big Lenny Bruce! I'll make sure of it!" You yell as you cross the street a long ways away from him at that point but he still yells back

"What would I do without you princess!" He chuckles as he watches you walk away..god.. did he love you....

-----

First post trying to get better at building chemistry, don't honestly know how to use tumblr yet but if you can let me know? Skimmed for Grammer and spelling mistakes but honestly could have missed alot.

Hope you enjoyed have an amazing day :)

<33

[brightlilith]

Midnight in Paris with Lenny Bruce. 1

Masterlist

Pairing: Lenny Bruce x Fem!Reader

Summary: Drinks, laughter and cigarettes with Lenny Bruce.

Warning: drunk people, I think just

A/N: This series is inspired by the film Midnight in Paris. English isn't my fist language. Any mistakes I apologize for. Constructive criticism and supportive messages are always welcome, it motivates me to keep writing.

I walked through the empty streets of Paris, letting the sound of my shoes hitting the cobblestones echo through the narrow alleyways. I was determined to escape my troubles, at least for one night. The cool night wind gently caressed my face as I immersed myself in the magical atmosphere of the city.

Without a specific destination, I allowed myself to be guided by the golden lights adorning the elegant buildings. I found myself drawn to the magnificent Eiffel Tower, whose nighttime sparkle seemed to hypnotize me. I sat on a nearby bench, allowing myself to be enveloped by the tower's imposing presence and the sense of freedom in the air.

Following my instincts, I made my way to the banks of the River Seine, where the gentle murmur of the water calmed me. The scene was truly enchanting, with the reflective lights dancing on the surface of the river, creating a spectacle of reflections and shadows. I closed my eyes for a moment, allowing myself to simply feel the serenity of that Parisian night.

Still wandering aimlessly, I found myself in Montmartre, immersed in the bohemian atmosphere and narrow cobblestone streets. I felt the artistic vibe of the place, with the illuminated cafes and figures engaged in lively conversations. There, I allowed myself a moment of contemplation, observing the street artists and absorbing the creative energy of the place.

As the night progressed, I finally realized that my troubles had dissipated, at least temporarily. I felt rejuvenated, inspired, and above all, grateful for the opportunity to lose myself in the magical streets of Paris. I understood that sometimes the best solution to problems was to allow yourself to experience the beauty and freedom that life had to offer.

Walking a little further down the cobbled street, I found myself sitting on the steps of the church of Saint-Étienne-du-Mont, at Place du Panthéon, watching the lights of the Parisian night. I was far from home, disoriented, and attempting to find meaning in my life.

A distant sound echoed in my ears, a bell, I would say. I looked at my watch and saw that the hands indicated it was midnight, I wouldn't return to my hotel so soon.

Precisely at that moment, an old Peugeot, immersed in a nostalgic aura, drove up Rue de la Montagne Sainte Geneviève, its engine humming softly.

I watched the car with a mixture of fascination and disbelief. It was as if the past was unfolding before my eyes, bringing with it all the charm of 1960s Paris. I felt a wave of excitement run through my body, inspiring me to move forward, explore new possibilities. In that moment, I realized that the answers I was seeking could be hidden in the fabric of time itself.

Inside were two men and two women, stylishly dressed in clothes reminiscent of the 1960s, with champagne and glasses, serving from an open bottle and drinking cheerfully.

"Come, get in." One of the men spoke merrily.

"Huh?" I murmured confused.

"Come on, we're running late." The woman next to the car window spoke, her French accent distinct. She opened the car door.

"You must be mistaking me for someone else."

"Not at all, come on, get in." the same woman said.

"Look, I'm a little drunk."

"Come on, for God's sake, we can't stay here all night." the woman said.

I stood up from where I was and went to the car, the other two people besides whom I was talking were humming drunkenly.

"You have a wonderful old Peugeot, I have one in New York, I usually collect..." I was interrupted by the woman pulling me into the car.

"Let's go" She laughed. "We have parties to go to."

"What parties?" I asked, I was in between the two women.

"Let's go" The other man said, starting the car.

"Here, have some champagne." The other woman handed me a glass of the drink.

The car left the street, leaving behind the majestic facade of the church and taking me somewhere I didn't know, but I didn't care. Inside the car, I contemplated the grandeur of Paris at night, with its illuminated streets and these four lively people. Laughter flowed genuinely from my mouth, maybe exploring Paris wouldn't be so bad after all.

Thank you for reading this far, it makes me very happy.🩵

If you liked it, tell me so I can continue writing this series.

Kisses💋

© morganaah/brightlilith ─ all rights reserved. do not copy, translate or share my work on other platforms.

[gretavanfleetlove]

a spicy oneshot of lenny bruce x reader but the reader is a known comedienne

Can a Man Change His Mind?

Anon i must say, I like the way you think. Lenny Bruce x Fem!reader

Warnings- none?? Kissing I guess? Oh also guys tell me if you think this needs a part two becuuuuuuz I’m tempted to make one….

Request? Yes.

Summary: Reader is performing at a comedy club when her old friend Lenny Bruce stops by.

“Y/n!” I heard a voice shout from behind me. “Y/n! Finally.. I was wondering if you’d ever slow down.” They laughed

“Lenny?” I ask with a smile. “The one and only.” Was his reply. Definitely Lenny.

Taking my arm he led me through the crowded club to a dimly lit table. “Lenny, what are you doing here?” His answer was exactly what I’d expect. “Here to see you doll, why else?”

I scoffed at his particularly vague answer. “No… I mean what are you doing here?” Lenny hates or hated? So-called fancy comedy clubs. I know, says the man who got a gig at Carnegie Hall. But he dreads this place. Whether it’s because they wouldn’t take his jokes so lightly or because he thinks any where nice is full of pricks. “Ohh, oh I see, what am I doing here in this place specifically. Since you are such an extravagant comedienne why come here?”

Of course this being asked by Lenny was a rhetorical question. That didn’t stop my curiosity. I nodded with a flattered grin, waiting for the official answer. “I was just in the neighborhood .. I saw you were performing and didn’t have a good reason not to stop by.” He says quiet and slow, like he is every time he’s in a one on one conversation. “Yeah?” I question, It seems like every time I even speak to Lenny. As simple as this. Uncontrollable butterflies start to erupt inside of me. Every little compliment, even the facts he’s here to see me makes me smile like an idiot. “Yeah,” he says in a reassuring tone. “Although I was a bit offended you didn’t-” The fellow comedian was cut off by a young looking slim, tall, man.

“Please excuse me Ms. L/N. I’m sorry to interrupt but I was hoping to get an autograph?” He looked very awkward, continually looking back at a group of friends giggling and watching intensely.

“Oh my gosh. Of course!” I made myself turn my gaze away from Lenny. Writing my name on a newspaper “Y/N L/N AND LENNY BRUCE AFFAIR?” With my face in the middle of a skit as the cover. ‘Flattering picture! An even more flattering title!’ I sarcastically thought. “Thanks so much!” He exclaimed, giving a wink. Laughing to myself I looked back at Lenny. “I’m sorry Lenny what were you saying?” I asked. Having completely forgotten the topic of conversation. “People ask for your autograph now?” He asked more seriously than anything before.

“Well sometimes… that’s not a regular thing! No I guess he must’ve just seen me perform here before or something I don’t know but-” “Calm down!” Lenny stated in a more playful tone than the one before. “I wasn’t asking to call you out or something, it’s just incredible.”

A sigh of relief and embarrassment came from my chest, “Oh!” “You no that was a pretty interesting News headline, yeah?” The feeling of embarrassment hit again. I know I talk about Lenny a lot in skits. Wether it’s making fun of him or telling some story relevant to the joke. And hey maybe we’ve gone home together after a show once… or twice. But I know Lenny doesn’t want a relationship with me. “Friends with occasional benefits” he always said.

“ Interesting, you could say that….” I managed to choke out. Lenny laughed, “They’re not completely wrong, are they?” He asked with a cheeky smirk. “I wouldn’t call it an affair… persay.” I tried to keep my cool as he leaned in closer, making my breathe hitch. “Maybe not, but it’s definitely something.” He continued, leaning in closer. “Lenny, you’re the one who said that.. we were only friends, you know, better off that way?” He seemed to consider what I said, looking down, and back up at me. “Can a man change his mind?” Before I could come up with an answer he leaned in to kiss me. More gentle than any that he’d given me before. But before I could enjoy it I felt the flash of a camera hit us. “Lenny, we can't do this here.” I whispered. He answered quickly, “I know, come on.” Lenny ushered us through a near exit outside. It had just begun snowing. Falling and sticking on the city buildings and ground. Lenny walking quickly, still looked my outfit up and down. Black dress, black tights, and a light cardigan. “God, you’re gonna freeze out here.” He scolded, taking his suit jacket off and handing it to me. I thanked him, knowing he wouldn’t let me reject it. As a taxi cab drove by I quickly stuck out my hand and whistled. Lenny and I, freezing, hustled inside the cab. “Where to?” Asked the driver. Before I could answer at all, Lenny gave his address to the driver, and followed it with a wink to me. “I haven’t been here in awhile, you’ve changed a few things!” I admired his apartment, which definitely got a few upgrades over the past 8-9 months. He nodded “Yeah I’ve rearranged, even decorated.” I nodded whilst admiring the unfamiliar looking apartment.”Y/n?” Lenny asks at a quieter volume then he was speaking before. “Hm?” I hum in response “You never answered me. Earlier at the bar. When I asked if… a man can change his mind?” His eyes looked at me with a gleam of hope, along with underlying lust. My senses were overwhelmed by the apartment and Lenny’s longed for presence that it took me a moment to process what he had asked. “I think…” I started “that a man can change his mind.. if he really means it.” Without hesitation Lenny answered “He does.” “Is he sure?” “He is” “Then kiss me.” Lenny following the spontaneity of the previous interaction leaned in with a kiss. Less empty feeling than before. Now it felt full. It felt full of emotion and longing. The kiss deepened. “Bed.” He said sharply. Then picking me up, hooking my legs behind his back, without breaking the kiss he took us to his bed. “I love you.” He smiled, before showing his face into the crook of my neck.

[americanvampyre]

   written for @bullyapologist

   The bar is loud, but his gaze on you was soft. It made the drumming of noise that surrounded you deafen, tired, worn out eyes with experiences hidden within them scanning your being.

     "It's a little loud in here," he said in a hoarse, local accent, "let's continue this discussion outside."

[miguel-owhora]

MINOR CHARACTER MASTERLIST

APR. 2024

FUCKING THE MINOTAUR - JULIAN DEVORAK'S PUSSY - LOSER!BEN REILLY - LUCIO'S PUSSY - MURIEL...HNGH - ASRA/READER W/ JULIAN

MAY. 2024

OMEGA!BATMAN - HANK MILKING YOU - SILLY BF TRICKY - OVERSTIMULATING ROACH - BEING OSCAR ISAAC'S COSTAR - VENOM EATING YOU OUT - EDDIE/VENOM EATING YOU OUT

JUNE. 2024

FUCKING HOBIE'S PUSSY

[mostly-imagines]

Sugar on the Rim I

bruce wayne x afab!reader

aka the billionaires new friend

warnings: implied that reader is a virgin, age gap (bruce is older than reader), mentions of sex, smut in next part

You twist the stem of the wine glass around between your fingers slowly. Your chin rests atop your knees as you stare vacantly at the tiny puddle left of the drink. You could go refill it, but then you’d have to go back out to the main room and man…you really do not want to do that. So you’ll sit here, swiping your tongue across the bumps of the roof of your mouth as if it's a fascinating new discovery.

The creak of hinges has you shooting upright, your back thumping against the stair step behind you. You’re not immediately sure how to act as though it’s normal that you’re sitting in the stairwell outside the gala rather than in it, fraternizing with old and new money alike. You freeze, trying to relax your posture so it doesn’t look like you’re alarmed at the sight of another person, but not so relaxed that you look as bored as you are.

Your neutrality stutters when you glance up to find the host of the fundraiser. The billionaire host of the fundraiser. Bruce Wayne, the billionaire host of the fundraiser. Your posture straightens right back up and your mouth snaps shut as you make eye contact.

Should you stand up? 

No, he’s rich, not royalty. 

You are in his house though—

He looks you over contemplatively, “I don’t know you,” It’s not accusatory, rather he says it like it’s something interesting.

You perk up at that, immediately formulating reasons to justify your presence. “Oh, uh, no—” the words nearly spill out of your mouth all at once. You clear your throat, “I’m just a plus one for my boss—”

“Who’s your boss?” he asks, relaxed. 

“Arthur Mullins.”

He looks to the side, squinting, “Mullins…he’s the executive at Williamson Industries, yes?”

You nod and he returns the gesture, slower, like he’s processing through something. “I’m Bruce,” he says warmly after a moment, holding his hand out to you.

You nod before you can even think to get any words to come out, “I—yeah, I know,” you accept his hand, shaking it as you tell him your name.

There’s a slight glint in his eye when he hears your name, and he repeats it quietly to himself. “A pretty name.”

“Oh, it’s just…” Just your name. But rather than fill him in on that fascinating tidbit, you let the sentence die off.

He smiles kindly anyway, “What are you doing in here? Party’s out there, or so they tell me.”

“I…I’m hiding in here,” you admit sheepishly.

He leans in towards you slightly, lowering his voice. “I’ll let you in on a secret—so am I,” he smiles at you like it’s easy.

Your grin matches his, “It’s your party,”

“That’s why I need to hide.” He tilts his head, “Doesn’t give you much of an excuse though, does it?”

“I don’t know anybody here.”

He puckers his bottom lip contemplatively, “Your boss.”

You shake your head, “I’m just his assistant. I’m pretty sure he just brought me as a precaution in case he needed a designated driver.”

He laughs at that, “Based on the way I’ve seen Mullins’ attempts to operate, his assistant would have to be a hell of a lot more important than just a designated driver.”

Well, he’s certainly right about that. Your boss doesn’t exactly “have it together” per se. He’s an unorganized man with little to justify his importance in Gotham, so he tends to insist on taking on more responsibility than he has any business having. Not to mention, he’s a bit of a try-hard and you’re constantly left to sweep up the pieces of his reputation that he shattered himself. Not to say he’s necessarily unprofessional, he just will do anything and everything to prove he belongs in any given space. It’s honestly a bit exhausting to watch. It’s more exhausting to try and convince him that the exchange went well afterwards.

You nod slowly, eyes on his shoes. “Mr. Mullins has…a unique approach to business. It does usually leave me fairly busy, I’ll give you that.” You take a quick deep breath, plastering on a fake smile. “But that means I occasionally get to go to fancy parties where I don’t know anyone, so..”

“Well then it sounds like you’ve got it all worked out,” he ribs, “Or don’t you agree?”

You smile coyly, “I would never be so bold.”

“I don’t mind boldness. For example, the reason I came in here is because he spotted me.”

You laugh at that, “Mr. Wayne—”

“Bruce.”

“Mr. Wayne,” you suppress your smile as you pause, choosing your words carefully. “I think he’s just networking.” He doesn’t have the money to give.

He nods surely, “He’s definitely just networking.” He really doesn’t have the money to give. You allow just the faintest wisp of a smile to adorn your face as you look down again.

You check the time and realize that you’ve been hiding away for too long and that if he hasn’t already, your boss will notice soon. You sigh quietly to yourself, “I should..”

He turns his head to the closed door where the chatter can be heard from beyond, sighing in defeat as he shakes his head looking back at you. “So should I.”

You feel a bit insecure as you stand, the gown you’re wearing is pretty but it is very much affordable and you’re sure someone as wealthy as Bruce Wayne would know the difference.

If he does notice he makes no deal of it, motioning you forward gallantly to walk ahead of him.

He follows after you, hands behind his back. “Would it be rude of me to ask you to distract him while I run for the bar?”

It’s busy, even for a Sunday afternoon, and you have to sidestep past someone nearly every step you take. You stick next to the windows of the line of boutiques down the road, trying to balance window shopping and not bumping into other pedestrians.

You're in a nicer district of Gotham, truthfully an area you don't quite belong in. So far you’ve only managed to find a couple shops that weren’t several ranges above your budget. 

A call of your name has you blinking rapidly and turning around as if you’re lost. It doesn’t take long for you to pick the six foot two billionaire out of the crowd and it’s only half a second longer before you realize he’s walking towards you. A few people collide shoulders with you as they move past thoughtlessly, no regard for the personal space of the idiot that stopped in the flow of traffic.

You let him approach a couple feet closer before you ask him, “Is there something I can do for you, Mr. Wayne?” The presence of his figure in front of you allows for a break from being bumped into, as he seemingly makes for a far more easily seen and intentionally avoided target.

He sways a bit, “Bruce. I’m not sure yet,” he looks down to the couple of bags you’re holding, extending his hand out. “May I?”

It takes you just a moment to move past your surprise at the request, allowing him to hold them for you. “Are you in a rush?”

You shake your head quicker than you meant to, “No, I—not at all,” he gestures his head forward, allowing you to walk before him.

You traipse ahead in silence for a moment before deciding against biting your tongue, “What exactly is it you’re not sure about?”

He raises his voice a bit so you can hear him over the crowd, “Whether or not you’ve got plans on the 19th.”

You look back at him, “What’s on the 19th?”

He stops with you as you admire a set of jewelry inside a window display, “We’re hosting a gala for something or something else, hopefully less boring than the fundraiser.”

You blink, “You’re inviting me?” He nods. “Why?”

“I could use someone who wants to be there even less than I do.”

He said it so casually it takes you a second to even register his meaning. You blink, face contorting defensively, “That’s not—” you can barely make out the smile on his face as he continues on walking.

You shake your composure back together and trail after him, rushing to catch up. “I don’t think Mr. Mullins would be very happy to hear that I’m attending a business gala without him.”

He shakes his head as he scans over the crowd, “He can’t fire you for that.”

“He’ll try.” He would. A petty little man, he is. 

He scans across the rows of clothes leisurely. “Well, then he can speak to me about it. Besides, it wouldn’t be for business.” And then he just lets that sentence linger.

It takes you a moment to recover from those words and begin to start processing the world around you again. After a few more feet down the sidewalk he pulls you gently to the side by your lower arm, out of the rush of traffic, and looks at you dead on, “What do you think?”

You try not to waver under the weight of the eye contact, “I don’t…uh, I don’t really have…” you look down, hoping to get the message across without actually having to say the words.

He glances into the store window next to you and raises his eyebrows, “Well then I’d say we’re in the right place.”

You can’t manage to tell him that this store is definitely far too expensive for you, walking through the door as he opens it for you, albeit apprehensively.

Well. Up close window shopping is more fun anyways. 

The spotless white of the floors and walls has you intimidated, and just as much so by less by the no doubt designer clothes lining the walls. The saleswomen all look pretty highbrow themselves, hair up in tight buns and uniforms chic.

You only break from gawking at the store to look behind you at Bruce. You note the way his eyes roam around blindly, looking for something and clearly having no means to narrow down where it might be. You take one more glance around, immediately finding the women's section with no such difficulty. 

“This way.” You say, nodding your head over to the left. He recovers nicely and lets you lead the way towards the section of dresses. You peer back at him, “You don’t seem like someone that does much of his own shopping.”

Thankfully, he laughs at that. “Well, special occasions.”

You keep your gaze ahead this time, asking as casually as you can, “Is this a special occasion?”

He hums in consideration, “I’d say so.”

You stop upon approaching the dress section, taking in the immediately stunning display of options. 

“What are you doing up here anyways?” you ask, hand brushing across a particularly plush dress.

“Ah, I was headed to a meeting.”

“Oh,” you frown, looking at him. “Don’t you need to go?”

He shakes his head with a puckered lower lip, “No.”

A few seemingly heiresses roam down the aisle mindlessly, not caring much that you’re in their path. 

Bruce sees them before you do, knowing well that they were not going to excuse themselves. “Sweetheart,” he nudges you gently to the side, closer to him as the group passes. His hand remained open-palmed and flat as he guided you to the side, seemingly very careful not to touch you with uninvited boldness. Though you’re quite shaken by the chivalry of the gesture, a brazen touch wouldn’t have been the worst thing in the world.

As your arm brushes against a rack of clothing your gaze follows, met with something rather appealing.

Bruce is quick to notice you admiring the sleek black dress that looks like something you’d see a model wearing on a runway. “You like that one?”

“It’s nice, yeah,” you murmur, not really thinking. You flip the price tag over and your face drops. “It’s $800.”

He nods thoughtfully, “We can find a nicer one,” he says, though it’s clear he knows exactly what your problem with the price tag was.

“I can’t—” you restart, “I would never have a reason to wear something this nice again.”

He shakes his head coolly, “That’s alright.”

Your shoulders drop and your head tilts seriously, “It’s not, though.”

“You like it?” He looks you in the eyes, his own searching for a truthful answer.

“I mean, of course, but it—”

He nods affirmatively, “Then we’ll get it. Problem solved.” He turns his back to the rack, casually observing the rest of the store goers. “Pick your size.”

Apparently not one to argue, you thumb through the row until you find one that should fit. 

You sigh, realizing that you’re running out of time to mention that you don’t have $800 to spend on a dress. “I can’t—”

“You don’t need to,” he says simply as he takes the dress off the rack and drapes it across his arm, making his way towards the salescounter.

You try to stop your mouth from hanging open as you follow, “It really is okay, I don’t need—”

His grin cuts you off, just in time for you to hear him mutter, “Sweet girl..” to himself. You stop right in your tracks, feeling very thankful that he’s not looking at you right now because you’re certain the look on your face would give you away.

He still doesn’t face you as he calls out, “Come on,” as he continues on.

Obviously you’re not stupid. You know what type of intentions a billionaire playboy must have with a younger girl that he doesn’t even really know. However, if said billionaire is offering to buy you a pretty dress…no, you’re not sleeping with him because he bought you a dress—of course not—and you’ve made absolutely no promises to do so, so what’s the harm in letting him? Really?

And yeah, maybe it’s a plus that he’s not bad looking, but how is that your fault?

You stand a bit awkwardly next to him as he puts his card in the machine, not even glancing at the outrageous number, and declines the offer for the receipt.

As you exit the store together and stand at the doors as he hands your original two bags back to you along with the new shiny black one that on its own looks like something people would pay for.

“You will be there?” he asks, eyes more hopeful than you were prepared for. 

You nod, gesturing the bag up, “Well you just bought me the dress.”

He shrugs that off, “I would’ve bought you the dress anyways.”

You linger in the midst of the ado wearing a dress that you feel far too overshadowed by, fidgeting with the half empty wine glass in your hand. Unfortunately, this time around you were invited by the host of the event and it would be extra rude to run away and hide. That doesn’t stop you from considering it, though.

A hand sliding across your lower back has you momentarily startled, and for reasons you couldn’t quite verbalize, you’d naturally assumed it was Bruce. The disappointment rings strong when you turn around to be met with the sight of an even older man, who looks considerably wine drunk. 

“Hello there, Miss.,” The words themselves are polite but the salacious smile on his face and the way his eyes have no trouble roaming your body gives you a solid idea of what this conversation is going to entail.

“Hello,” you fake a polite, tight smile and shift your attention to the rest of the room. 

This does nothing to deter him, as he takes a sizable step back into your line of sight. “Having a nice time?” 

The man is clearly from money, if his attire didn’t give it away his attitude sure did. There’s an heir of entitlement around him, like he’s inherently deservant of your attention—a quality you were notably surprised to not have found in Bruce. 

You give him your faux-smile again, this time tighter but half a second longer for the sake of politeness. A rookie mistake.

“Can I buy you a drink?” He asks, gesturing to the bar.

“I’m okay, thank you,” you say, gesturing your wine glass up.

A momentary flash of irritation crosses his face, but to his credit, he does a better job recovering from it than you would have expected. Though, that’s not really saying much. “Well, pretty little thing like you shouldn’t be all alone here,”

“I’m afraid you’re mistaken,” Both of your heads snap to the side, finding a much more welcome surprise than you’d previously received. 

Your counterpart's posture straightens immediately, “Mr. Wayne,” he fawns, “What a lovely event you’ve thrown. I’m sure the Bernsteins will be appreciative.”

Bruce hums, eyes narrowed slightly. “You are…”

The man startles and rushes to finish off his sentence, “Alexander Watson, senior executive to the accounting department for the research wing of the company.”

He nods slowly, no recognition actually present in his eyes. “Ah. The research wing of the company that just blew fifteen million dollars on prototype self-operating cell phones.”

You’re trying hard to fight the smile creeping up on your face.

“What exactly is a self-operating cell phone?”

Watson’s face drops, hurrying to justify his approval of the proposal’s funding. As he rambles, Bruce’s gaze lowers to where Watson has once again placed his hand on your hip, though he’s not close enough to you for it to rest fully or naturally. You don’t know him well but you can say confidently that he doesn’t look pleased. 

He looks back up to Watson, attitude challenging. “Surely you’re not poking around where you’re unwelcome?”

Watson stutters at that, blinking and shaking his head quickly. “No, no, of course not! I was just hoping to provide the young lady with some company. That’s all.”

“And so you have.”

“I—,” about two steps behind in this conversation, Watson finally decides to retreat, “Yes, good evening, Mr. Wayne.” He bows his head and shuffles away back into the crowd.

“Mr. Wayne,” you smile knowingly, turning to him. “How are you?”

The hardness of his gaze fades quickly as he takes in your appearance, quite liking how you wear the dress you’d picked out.

“Things are looking up,” he smiles, “You look lovely.”

 “Thank you,” you glance over to where Watson has made his way to the bar, likely about to down an entire glass. “Mr., uh, Mr. Watson makes quite the impression.”

His smile turns a bit sullen, “You know last year he tried to convince the board that battery-powered battery chargers were going to be the next big thing?”

You blink, tilting your head, “Thought you didn’t know who he was.”

His eyes are fixed on the wall as he tugs the corner of his lip down, knowing he’s been caught but not really caring. “I’m sorry to have been away for so long, it seems everyone needs my attention at these things.”

“At the gala that you threw? I’d imagine so.”

He rolls past that smoothly, “You’re having a good time?”

“I am,” you say with a confirming head bob.

He regards the room with a numb expression, “You know, I think I’m getting bored with all of this.”

You smile at him, brow furrowed, “It’s only been an hour.”

He looks at you, eyes wide. “It’s only been an hour?” He’s exaggerating his surprise to make you smile, and it works.

“I think we should go,” he says lower.

You stare at him, bemused. “You still have a whole room full of guests.” 

He shrugs, “They’ll filter out on their own eventually.” 

He clocks your hesitation easily, accurately noting it to be more out of politeness than actually wanting to stay at the party. “What, you’re not ready to leave?”

You look around at all the mostly old, posh guests, disinterested small talk evident all across the room. You take a breath, “Alright, yeah. Let’s go.”

He smiles and leads you out a side door and through a corridor that’s significantly longer than you’d expected. 

“Do you always ditch your parties this early?” you ask, following closely.

He makes a sharp right at the next doorway, “If I can manage it.”

You look around at the high wooden ceilings and grand furniture. “Aren’t some of them friends of yours?”

He shakes his head, “My friends aren’t here.”

You frown at that, “Then why do you throw them at all?”

“Why did you show up last weekend?”

You nod slowly, understanding. “It’s your job.”

He returns the nod, adding, “Only difference is, there’s not a chance in hell you get paid enough for the work you do for Mullins.”

For the sake of maintaining your wishful facade of professionalism, you’re going to not acknowledge that incredibly accurate statement. Instead you smile politely and continue on walking. He seems to get the implication, returning it with an even brighter adornment.

“Well, money’s money,” you say wryly.

His smile fades a bit, “You shouldn’t have to worry about things like that.” 

You shrug, “A day in the life,”

He looks sullen upon hearing that, with more sympathy than you’d have expected from someone of his stature. He’s done nothing if not surprise you, though.

“Here,” he says, taking hold of the handle of a glass door. It opens to a garden, lit up beautifully by the moon and outdoor light. A fountain sits in the middle, water rhythmically gushing out of the top and trickling down the sides. The bite of the Gotham night air burns at your cheeks a bit and you find yourself thankful the dress you’d chosen is so long.

Bruce leads the way to an expensive marble bench positioned nicely in front of it, allowing you to sit first before following suit. Your hands find a place in your lap, clasped together awkwardly in an attempt to find warmth through contact.

It takes Bruce less than ten seconds to stand, remove his suit jacket, and drape it over your shoulders before sitting back down. The material is thicker and warmer than you would’ve expected, surely reminiscent of the perks of being owned by a billionaire.

He doesn’t look at you to acknowledge the grateful expression on your face, simply carrying on like it didn’t happen. “Was hoping it was warmer,” he murmurs.

Your focus momentarily goes to the icy cold stone of the bench under your thighs, initially finding it uncomfortable before deciding the coolness actually felt quite soothing. You remove your gaze from the gray stone and turn your head to find Bruce already focused on you.

You start to say something, though you’re not sure what it would’ve been, when he brushes his thumb over your bottom lip, pulling it down.

Well, he certainly knows what he’s doing, doesn’t he?

His eyes stay on your lower lip as he murmurs, “You’re a pretty girl, you know that?” 

God, he’s a professional.

You look up at him and refrain from saying anything, waiting to see if he follows it up with something that will make you regret agreeing to coming out here with him.

He doesn’t.

You shift, moving your hands off your lap to rest on the stone under you. “You can’t just do this—”

He smiles and lowers his chin to look you in the eyes, “Then what can I do for you?”

“You—” you blink rapidly, “Stop it.”

His coy beam persists, “Stop what?”

You raise your gaze up to him ever so slightly, a pouty expression across your face that you’re trying to sell as serious. “You’re trying to make me nervous.”

“Do I make you nervous?” He tilts his head down further, a ghost of a smile echoing on his lips, “I don’t mean to, sweet girl.”

Your eyes drop to the ground, biting your tongue. “Yeah.”

His simper grows, “I’m serious. I’d hate to scare away a new friend.”

You laugh at that and he perks up a bit at the sound, “What? We’re not friends?”

You cock your head to the side, “You’re the one who said none of your friends are here.”

He hums, “Maybe I spoke too soon.”

“You think so?” You should probably stop flirting so much. 

“Yeah,” he leans in a bit closer, “I do.”

“Why’s that?”

“Maybe I want to be your friend,” his hand finds a place atop yours. 

Your eyes flicker across his face as he closes in, “What if I don’t want to be yours?”

His eyes are on your lips, “I’m sure we can work something out.”

You take a slow deep breath, “Your intentions are blurry.”

He smiles lightly, amused. “We’ll have to clear that up then, won’t we?” His lips are inches away and his voice is soft as he says, “I’m going to kiss you now, okay?”

You look up at him eyes wide, barely processing his words as you nod. He gently grasps your jaw in his hand, tilting your head up. His other hand finds the back of your head, holding you in place as he kisses you with intention. Your hands hover in the air for a second before holding onto his forearms. 

He breaks the kiss only to give you another sweet one right after. Your mouths remain close when it’s over, eyes still shut, trying to catch your breath. You stay like that for a moment until he kisses you once more on your cheekbone before pulling away. His hands drop to rest on your knees, the weight of them gentle.

He hums lowly, “Sweet thing..”

Being under the heaviness of his gaze leaves you feeling vulnerable. It’s starting to get you concerned with the potential levity and implications of kissing him. The expectations.

“You…” you stare down at where his hands meet your skin, not quite sure that you actually meant to start that sentence. 

“What?” he frowns, brow pinched. Your chin lowers further as your mouth forms a tight line. He shakes his head, “No, it’s alright. What is it?” he asks gently.

It takes a surge of willpower for you to get the sentence out, “You just want to sleep with me..”

He frowns harder at that, pulling back a bit. “No. I’m…” he sighs, “I’m not trying to lure you in just to toss you out right after.”

That makes you look up again. His voice has a sincerity to it that you weren’t prepared for. 

He continues, “I would like to, yes. Yeah. You’re beautiful, of course I would, but..” he looks down at his hands before looking back up at you, “No, that’s not the most important thing to me.”

You break eye contact again, thinking over his words. If that’s not the most important thing to him, what is? You can’t think of what else he could possibly want from you, a billionaire who could have anything he wants..the only thing you could have to offer in his eyes is sex. 

Right?

He exhales, “If you want to leave, I’ll call you a car. No hard feelings.” He nudges your chin up gently so you’ll look at him, but he gives you the freedom to fight against it if you wanted to.

You let him move you.

“I don’t want to leave,” you tell him, looking into his eyes. “What do you want?”

“Whatever you want,” he says it like it’s automatic. You physically can’t help but roll your eyes at the corniness of it. He doubles down, though, “Seriously. Anything.”

You smile in disbelief, shaking your head.

“Alright,” he returns your smile, straightening, “Here’s what we’re going to do. Do you need a ride home?”

You blink at him, “I’m going home?”

“You are,” he nods softly, “Do you need a ride?”

“No.”

He nods again, more like he’s working through something in his head. “Okay. You’re going to go home and think through what you want. If you decide you want to, come back here next Saturday.” he stands up, extending his hand out to you, “Then you can let me know what else you want and we can get to work on that too.”

You start to shake your head, “I can—” 

He drops his chin seriously, “Think on it.”

You relent easily, taking his hand and coming to a stand.

“Alright?” Again, his question is genuine. He does really want to know if you’re on board with this plan. 

Already going against his request, you agree without a thought, “Okay.”

He starts to lead you back over to the garden door with a head nod and a kind smile.

It ultimately was not a decision you had to think very hard on.

You’d considered every scenario of how this could play out and none of them ended with regret as far as you could guess.

You’ll still admit though, there was one scenario you had missed, apparently, which is why you were immeasurably confused when you showed up and he invited you to play chess.

He’s not wearing a fancy three piece suit this time, but his clothes are still very nice. With the sunlight peeking through the windows, you’re able to see the manor more clearly than you had been the other night. It really is a beautiful home, clearly very old and charmed, but there’s a lot of little details of character and history scattered around. There’s portraits and photographs of his parents from when he was young and furniture decorated with trinkets all throughout, kept absolutely spotless and dust free. Everything is neat and tidy but there’s still traces of the house being lived in with the patched throw pillows and worn carpets. Still, it’s very, very placid.

You’ve met new money plenty of times over the course of dealing with countless businessmen for Mr. Mullins but old money is something entirely different. You don’t really have a frame of reference here. New money is almost always brash and demanding, they like things done quickly and correctly the first time around. They’re usually not very interested in hearing what you have to say (even if it would save them a lot of trouble) and prefer it when the assistants women keep their mouths shut. Bruce has proven to be very different from these standards already and you’re not sure where to begin with placing new ones.

You’re about halfway through a second game, and while you’re not awful at chess, you get the impression that he’s easing up on you considerably.

You sit on the floor in front of a short coffee table, the game having no clear lead so far.

“I think this is stressing me,” you mumble, no actual weight behind your words.

“It’s just chess,” he says, not looking up from the board.

You watch him move his knight forward as you ask, “And that’s all we’re doing?”

“As it stands, yes,” he looks up at you, though you don’t return his gaze.

“Yeah,” you sigh, sliding your rook, “But later?”

“Later?”

“Well, you said...” you meet his eyes, “You said you wanted to sleep with me.”

He nods slowly, “I do. Is that alright?”

You consider it for a moment. You already knew that, if you really weren’t okay with it you wouldn’t have come here. And yeah, the idea makes you a little shaky, but in a good way.

“Yes,” you tell him, moving your queen forward two spaces.

“Are you sure?” he presses, moving to sit on the side of the table rather than behind it.

You do the same, sitting on your knees. “Yeah, I just..” you shift your weight, eyes wandering. “I’m not…overly experienced.”

He just smiles at that, like it’s endearing. Your words didn’t quite convey your meaning but your tone did. In any case, he understands the implication. “That’s alright, sweetheart. I’m not going to throw you in the deep end.”

You nod, looking down again.

“You’re nervous,” he comments.

“No, I’m—I mean, maybe,” your voice is barely a murmur by the end of the sentence.

He’s quiet for a moment, observing the way you fiddle with your rings. “What if we get you something pretty to wear? Something that makes you feel pretty. Whatever you want.”

He fishes his wallet out of his pocket, opening and pulling out a lump of cash without even looking. He holds the money out to you wordlessly and you can see from the bill on the outside that it’s at least a couple hundred dollars.

You shake your head instantly, “I can’t take that.”

He doesn’t put the money down but his eyes turn to begging. “Please. I just want you to feel good.”

“Bruce—”

He wavers a bit at that but it’s more of a falter than you’ve seen from him before so it’s easy to take notice of. “What?”

He shrugs barely, “I like when you say my name.”

Your eye contact holds for a moment and your resolve starts to shake almost instantly.

You exhale, “I’m not taking more than a hundred.”

“Two hundred.”

“Bruce.”

He smiles and picks out some of the cash and pockets it, handing you the rest. You don’t comment on the fact that it’s a hundred and fifty more than you’d agreed on.

You look down at the money in your hand like it’s a foreign object, shaking your head. “I don’t even know what to get.”

His thumbs start to rub reassuring circles by the bend of your knees, “Anything you want,” he tells you. “What do you like? Silk, lace, cotton, anything.”

You look up, tilting your head at him with a furrowed brow. “It doesn’t matter what I like, th—”

“It only matters what you like,” He says seriously, lowering himself to meet your gaze. “I’ll love it, no matter what you pick. Don’t worry about that.”

You lean forward a bit instinctually, “Okay.”

His eyes scan across your face in something that you can only recognize as awe.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you whisper.

“I want to kiss you again,” he says, voice even quieter.

Your eyes go to his mouth and you can only manage a nod, lips already parted.

He moves forward not a second later, kissing you with more fire than you’d gotten to see the other night. His hands grab at your waist, squeezing lightly as you hook one hand around the back of his neck, pulling him closer.

You hear the clatter of chess pieces falling over as he moves nearer to you, large frame leaning over you. You push up on your knees, meeting his lips up at his level. His hands caress around your hips as the kiss gets deeper.

You just start to fumble with the hem of his shirt when he takes your hands in his, pulling them away before breaking the kiss.

“Easy, sweet girl,” he smiles, nudging you back with little force.

You groan, “Why?”

He barks out a laugh at that, stroking your hips again. “I’m not fucking you for the first time on the floor.”

“Then let's go somewhere else,” you nod up towards the stairs.

He shakes his head, that soft smile still playing on his lips. “Not tonight.”

You sit back on your heels again, frowning.

He brushes your hair back, murmuring, “No. But for now, I'll kiss you ‘til you can’t think if that’s what you want.”

You really hope you didn’t perk up at that as much as you think you did.

🌾🌽 i heard a rumor that if you like without reblogging your crops will be cursed but hey what do i know 🌾🌽

[sanguineterrain]

crushin' | jason todd

Summary: Barbara invites you to dinner with the Bats. She's done so before, and you've always declined, but this time, you agree because the Bat you've had a crush on for ages will be there. Little do you know, the only reason he's staying for dinner is because of you.

Pairing: Jason Todd x gn!reader 

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings/tags: batfam shenanigans, dick is a good meddling brother and deserves a fruit basket, fluff and humor, kissing, crushes, love confessions. just wanted to write something sweet and light :)

the divider

"So you're gonna press this," Barbara says, demonstrating on her own screen.

You follow along, clicking and typing. She nods.

"Good. Then you're gonna do this."

You open the file. A video of what looks to be Bruce drunkenly hula-hooping pops up. Your eyes widen.

"And that's how you keep Bruce in check," Barbara says, patting your shoulder. "Use sparingly. Only when he's getting on your last nerve."

"Wow," you say. "Babs, I... I don't know if I should have this kind of power."

"No, it's cool. I have dirt on everyone in this family, so really, it's my power. You're the only one who gets to see the vault."

You look at her. "You scare me."

She grins. "Thanks! Anyway, you're free to go. They'll be back from the mission soon, so our job is pretty much over."

The computer beeps. She checks the notification and types back. Then she hums.

"Or, you can, y'know, join us for dinner. Alfred keeps wondering when you'll do so."

You press your lips together. "I dunno, Babs... are you sure? I don't want to intrude."

"You're not. Seriously. And you know what I just found out? Jason will be here too."

Well. That does certainly stop your refusal in its tracks. You haven't seen Jason properly since he returned. You feel a pang of guilt at that; true, he's never at the Manor, at least not when you're around. But you could've reached out by now.

Still, being able to see him again properly is a wonderful opportunity. One you can't pass up.

"Okay," you say. "I'll join you all. As long as Alfred's okay with it."

She rolls her eyes, smiles. "Don't be ridiculous. C'mon."

You follow her to the elevator Bruce got installed for her. In the Manor, most of the family are sitting down to dinner. Damian and Cass are on one side of the table. Bruce is at the head. Alfred is still bustling in the kitchen.

You start to pull out the chair next to Cass, but Barbara startles you.

"That's Dick's chair!" She smiles sympathetically. "Sorry. He's particular. Isn't he, guys?"

"Yes," Cass says. "He's comfortable here."

"I've no idea what you're referring to, Gordon," says Damian. He nods at you. "Hello."

You smile. "Hey, Damian. That's fine. I'll sit next to you, Babs." You sit in the middle of three chairs, with Barbara on your right and an empty chair on your left.

"Hi, Cass. Hello, Mr. Wayne."

"Bruce," he reminds you. That's not happening. It feels way too weird to call him Bruce, even though you've known him since Jason was Robin. Just, no.

Cass smiles. "Hello. Glad to have you."

"Where's Tim and Duke?" you ask.

"Thomas is at university," Damian says. "Drake is probably with that idiot clone he calls a boyfriend."

Bruce looks up. "Tim and Connor are dating?"

"Good God," Barbara mumbles.

"Well, yes, Father. They've been dating for quite some time, even shared a room together. Last month, Drake went undercover in Atlantic City and the clone—"

"Old man! Where are you?"

"Jason, just—"

"Shut it, Dickhead."

The grandfather clock swings open, revealing the Cave entrance. Up stomps Jason, followed by Dick. Jason has a smear of purple goo on his forehead, but otherwise is clean. His back is to you.

Jason points an accusing gloved finger at Bruce. "You owe me a new bike, new guns, new gear, new phone, new—"

"Jason, slow down. Why exactly do I owe you new things?" Bruce asks.

"Because Tweedle-Dum here didn't scan the fuckin' spaceship that landed in Syracuse and melted my bike with purple goo!"

"It said it was empty," Dick says tiredly. "How was I supposed to know an abandoned ship would spit goo?"

"Okay, alright, boys, don't fight. Yes, Jason, I'll compensate everything you lost in Syracuse."

"Yeah, you will. And a new fridge." Jason thinks. "And a new TV."

"Master Jason," Alfred begins, walking into the dining room with a dish of roasted potatoes. "You may continue your bargaining with Master Bruce after dinner. Wipe that alien sludge off your face and have a seat."

Jason sighs. "Alf, I appreciate the invite, but you know I don't dine with most of the folks at this table. Gets real fuckin' crowded."

"Master Jason, watch your language," Alfred says sternly. "We have a guest. Behave like the young man I raised you to be."

Jason scoffs. "Who, Barbie? She doesn't—" He turns and stops, staring at you.

You smile, suddenly self-conscious. "Hi."

He swallows, eyes wide. "Hi. Hey."

"Aren't you staying for dinner?" you ask, confused. "Barbara said you were."

"I—" He glances at Barbara, then looks at you. "Uh. Well. I don't really..."

"C'mon, Jay, you guys should catch up!" Dick says brightly, already seated.

Jason's mouth sours as he turns to Dick. You pull out the chair next to you and tap the seat.

"You can sit next to me," you say, looking up at Jason.

He immediately turns back to you, lips parted. "Oh. I—y-yeah. Sure. Thanks."

"Master Jason. The goo," Alfred reminds, raising a brow. "And hang up your jacket."

Jason quickly backs up and bumps into the table corner. He winces.

"Right. I'm gonna... yeah. Be right back."

Jason disappears down the hall. Dick grins wolfishly at Barbara.

"You're amazing," he says.

"I know," she says, shrugging.

Alfred serves the last tray of vegetables, then sits. Jason soon returns, gloves and jacket away and goo-free.

"Did you style your hair, Todd?" Damian asks.

"No. Shut it." Jason scoots in his chair, glaring at his brother. But when you pass him the tray of roast, his expression softens. He smiles at you.

"Thanks," he says, and puts three slices on his plate. "Great roast, Alf."

"You haven't tried it," Alfred says, but looks very pleased.

"Don't need to."

"We're very glad you're here, Jason," Bruce says. "All things considered—"

Jason holds up a hand. "Ah-ah. I'm not here for you, old man. Save the speech for another day."

"And who are you here for, Jason?" Dick asks, propping his chin on his hands.

"None of your beeswax, Dick."

Dick shrugs. Damian begins to talk about an art project in school. You pay the appropriate amount of attention until Jason nudges your arm.

"Hey," he says, nodding at your empty glass. "Didja get something to drink?"

"Oh." Heat creeps up your neck. "Um, no. Sorry. I didn't know where to get the drinks."

"'S okay. Alf doesn't put out drinks anymore 'cause everybody drinks something different. You just help yourself to whatever's in the fridge. I'll get it for ya."

"Jason, you don't have to—"

He holds up a hand, smiling. "C'mon, none of that. You're a guest. Orange Fanta, right?"

You blink. "You remembered."

"Uh." His cheeks go pink. "I mean, yeah. No biggie. I'll be back."

Jason stands. Immediately, the others pounce.

"Are you going to the kitchen?" Dick asks.

"No," Jason says.

"Can you get me another Diet Coke?"

"Todd, if you're going to the kitchen, I would like another lemonade, please," Damian says.

"I just said I'm not going to the—"

"Master Jason, will you please bring this into the kitchen?" Alfred asks, holding up an empty tray.

Jason heaves a sigh. You wince.

"Sorry," you whisper.

He shakes his head and winks. "Nah, 's not you."

Obediently, Jason takes the tray and goes to the kitchen. He returns with a Diet Coke, which he tosses at Dick, who catches it with one hand, and a bottle of lemonade, which he throws to Damian who also catches it with one hand and a scowl. Finally, Jason opens the Orange Fanta for you and gently pours it into your glass, then sets the half-full can next to your plate. He sits down.

"Of course they get special treatment," Dick mumbles into his drink.

The table rattles, and Dick winces, squinting at Jason. The table rattles again, and Jason hisses.

"Boys," Bruce says wearily. "Enough."

"Yeah, Jason," Dick says, sticking his nose up. "Y'know it's my birthday soon. I deserve a brother who doesn't kick me."

"Oh, I'll tell ya what you deserve," Jason begins.

"Are we doing laser tag?" Cass pipes up from the end.

"'Course we are! Everybody's gonna be there." Dick looks pointedly at Jason. "Except my own brother. He refused."

You look at Jason, who's got a nasty glower aimed at Dick.

"You're not coming?" you ask.

Jason's expression melts away when he turns to you. "Uh, I mean—"

"No, he's not," Dick says, pulling the saddest pout you've ever seen. "He said he wanted nothing to do with my stupid birthday."

"Those weren't my exact words."

"They were very close," Damian says.

"Shut—"

"Jason, I can't believe you aren't going to Dick's birthday," Barbara says, shaking her head.

Jason's mouth falls open. "Et tu, Barbie?"

"You should come," you say, touching Jason's arm.

He immediately looks at your hand. You slowly remove it, smiling sheepishly.

"Then we can be a team," you say. "We're playing doubles. I'm horrendously bad at laser tag, but I bet we'd win together. I'd watch your six."

"Leaving them in the lurch, Jason?" Barbara tuts. "So unlike you."

Jason heaves a sigh. "For God—okay. Alright, brother mine. You win."

You beam. "So you'll come?"

"'Long as you and I are a team," Jason says, a little shy.

You bump his shoulder with yours. "Of course."

Dick looks at you. "You should join us for dinner every night."

You laugh bashfully. "Thanks, Dick."

Dinner goes on. Bruce excuses himself early, as do Cass and Damian. Soon, it's the four of you plus Alfred cleaning up after dinner. You and Jason are loading the dishwasher when Jason hisses. He pulls out his hand, revealing a thin red cut on his palm.

"Are you okay?" you ask, hovering worriedly.

"Yeah, 'm fine. I'll take the tray—"

"Jason, no," Dick says, herding him away from the dishwasher. "You have to get that wrapped immediately."

"What are you—dude, it's a tiny cut—"

"Yeah, but there was food on there, and you have no idea what can get into the wound and make you sick," Barbara says seriously. "You need to get it cleaned right now."

Jason rolls his eyes. "Fine, whatever. There's a first aid kit in the closet."

"There isn't!" Dick says, shooing Jason toward you. "Alfred hasn't restocked it. You have to go to the Cave. You should both go."

"Yes, great idea," Barbara says, looking at you. "You have medical experience, don't you?"

"I mean, a little, but—"

"More than us!" Dick says, shoving you both towards the hallway.

"I don't think so..."

"You take care of Jaybird here, he needs that hand," Dick says cheerily, opening the Cave entrance. "Go on, go."

"Christ on a bike," Jason mumbles, and heads down the stairs.

You follow, confused and concerned. The entrance slides closed. Jason goes to the medbay, muttering under his breath as he digs through one of the drawers with one hand. You join him, searching the top drawer for the antiseptic spray.

"Is the cut really bad?" you ask, trying to get a better look.

"No. My brother's just an idiot. Nothin' new."

You pull out the spray, some gauze, and a bandaid. Jason nods in thanks and goes to take it.

"I can do it," you say. "I do have medical experience, after all."

He snorts. "Fine by me."

You both sit on the edge of a cot. You turn to Jason and pull his hand into your lap. He inhales sharply. You stop.

"Is this okay?" you ask.

"Y-yeah. Fine. Sorry. I don't get touched a lot." Jason's mouth screws up. "Ugh. That sounded weird."

You laugh. "It's fine, I know what you meant."

He scratches the back of his neck while you clean his hand. He has big hands. Bigger than you remember. They're deeply scarred and calloused. You rub your thumbs over the pads of his fingers without thinking.

"You got soft hands," Jason says quietly.

"Heh. Thanks. The computer life."

He hums. "I didn't know you were working with Babs."

The guilt swims back full force.

"I know. I'm sorry. I should've reached out, Jason. I-I basically ignored you. Not on purpose! I just... I guess I wasn't sure where we stood and I thought maybe you'd be mad I was working for Batman after everything and I was afraid that we wouldn't—"

"Hey, whoa. 'M not mad." Jason finds your gaze. You frown. "I'm serious. I don't mind that you're working for Bruce. I mean, hell, I do too, on occasion. Mostly I just bitch at him."

You giggle. He smiles. You're still holding his hand. You don't really want to let go. Jason doesn't seem to want to pull away either.

"Well, even so, I'm sorry for not reaching out. I did miss you, Jason. And I'm glad you're back."

He clears his throat, ducking his head. "Huh. Well, I missed you too. And y'got nothin' to apologize for. I could've asked about you."

"Well—"

"Uh-uh, no, I'm the king of self-deprication. Y'can't take that from me," Jason says, eyes dancing with mirth.

You sigh dramatically. "Fine, fine. Can we say that we both could've reached out?"

"That's agreeable. And, uh, while we're clearing the air, I'm so terribly sorry 'bout my dumbass brother."

You tilt your head. "What do you mean?"

"Ah, huh. Hm. Well, funny thing. I kinda had a, um, crush on you, before. And Dick has it in his head that I... that I have a chance now. So... yeah."

"Before?" you ask.

You don't know why you're disappointed. It's not like you knew. Except maybe if you had, you wouldn't have missed out. Maybe you wouldn't have lost so much time.

Jason glances at you. "What... why are you sayin' it like that?"

"Like what?"

"Like you wish... that I..." He shakes his head. "Forget it."

"Jason," you say, barely a whisper.

He looks at you. His eyes flick to your lips, just for a millisecond. "Yeah?"

"Can I kiss you?"

A beat. Your heart falls.

"Yeah." Jason nods. "Yeah, kiss me."

You heart soars.

You hold Jason's face, still holding his hand. He gingerly touches your neck with his uninjured hand, strokes behind your ear with his thumb. Every nerve alights. You're kissing Jason Todd. The boy you've loved since you were thirteen.

"They did it! They're kissing!"

Jason growls against your mouth. You know it's not aimed at you, but it makes lightning shoot down your spine. Wow.

"'M gonna kill 'im," Jason mumbles.

You smile and pull back, just an inch. "It's nearly his birthday. At least wait till next week."

"Hm." Jason kisses the corner of your mouth. You like him so much. "Fine. Y'know you can convince me of pretty much anything? Wield that power carefully."

You wrap your arms around his neck. Jason braces you with a hand on the small of your back.

"I'm very flattered, but I think you're confused, Jay." A kiss to his jaw. "It's you who has a hold on me."

[ebodebo]

Hey, Waiter!

NSFW CONTENT

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—you meet jason at one of bruce’s charity galas and you fuck

—jason todd x f!reader

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"Honey, cross your legs."

"Honey, sit up straighter."

"Honey, we're at a gala, not a summer blowout in the Maldives."

These were just a few of the many phrases your mother chirped at you since you arrived at this stupid gala. You didn't even want to go, but your mother preached something about how, "we needed to be a united front since your father was going for reelection as a New York senator" or something like that.

It was stupid. Nobody gives a shit about familial ties; they care about your values, goals, and accolades. But there's no arguing with your mother; she's as stubborn as they come.

So, you'd sit pretty, legs crossed, with a pristine posture, biting your tongue when she says you could be sitting straighter or you could smile more. Granted, it was only a couple of hours, and if it kept your mother from turning the world around you into hell personified, you'd gladly plaster a rictus smile to appease her.

"Oh, there's Bruce!" Your mother quietly says between you and your father. "Let's go say hello," she says, gripping your hand and pulling you out of your chair, gesturing for your father to follow along.

Somewhere along the way, your parents move in front of you, sequestering you behind them. So once you all reach Bruce, he only takes notice of them, issuing a polite welcome and thanks for their attendance. Your mother swivels her head to see you tucked away behind her, bringing her hand out, gesturing for you to come in front.

"Hello, Mr. Wayne," you politely say, sticking your hand out, before introducing yourself. He grasps your hand with only a slight hesitation.

"Pardon my shock. I just haven't seen you since you were two," he confesses. You smile, pulling your hand back before your mother steps next to you and places her hand on your shoulder.

"She's grown quite a lot since then, Bruce. Still a little air-heady, but I'm hopeful the more she ages, the more my personality will rub off on her," she laughs, carefully wiping a piece of loose hair away from your face. You should feel offended, but the way her joke landed so poorly, making Bruce lightly cough the awkwardness away, made you feel pity.

"You know Selina," he says, filling in the silence, gently placing his hand on her waist as she delicately sticks her hand out for your father to shake.

Who wouldn't know Selina Kyle? She was drop-dead gorgeous but as sharp as they came. She was dressed to the nines in a designer black floor-length dress. It must have been Celine or Givenchy, so it was definitely over five thousand dollars, which is just pocket change to a guy like Bruce Wayne.

"Pleasure," she coos, pulling her hand away. Her gaze shifts to your mother, slightly narrowing her eyes. It seems your mother is oblivious to Selina's adversary towards her because she eagerly sticks her hand out, ready for Selina to shake.

"Selina. So good to see you." But, instead of shaking your mother's hand, she crossed her arms over her chest

"Mhm. I wish I could say the same," Selina sharply replied before Bruce put his hand on her shoulder in warning. You gave Selina a small smile, smothering it with your hand. She covered her own with her champagne glass as she took a sip.

"She's joking," Bruce amends, signaling for a waiter going around with glasses of alcohol. "Champagne?" He asks, reaching for two glasses from the waiter before handing them to your parents.

Before any more conversation can occur, a man calls for Bruce. "Bruce," The man says, "When do you want to start?" The man questions. Bruce picks up his arm, turning his wrist to check his watch.

"He said he'd be here by now," Bruce sighed, rubbing his temples with his fingers. His eyes were scanning around in search of something—rather someone. He does, however, spot Alfred, who he calls over and asks if he'd seen a guy named Jason.

"It was humorous of you to assume Master Todd would abide by your schedule, Master Wayne," Alfred remarks, his face stone-cold. Bruce checks the time on his watch again, then scans the crowd again.

"Just start the silent auction. I suppose Jason will come when he comes," Bruce suspires, clearly agitated. "See you at the auction," he chimes to you and your parents as he sticks his arm out for Selina to take.

"See you," your mother cheerfully says, though you know the cheeriness is just a facade because once Bruce and Selina walk away, your mother instantly drops the smile.

"Can you believe that woman? She was a criminal for God's-sake. She should be thankful that people like us even mingle with her." Your mother scoffs at your father. He hums along, paying relatively no mind to what she is saying.

While she goes on a tangent about how Selina is just using Bruce to get to his billions, you notice a dark figure heading toward the fire escape that you assume leads to the roof. You don't know why, but your brain is fluttering with the idea that you must follow it. So, you do just that.

"I have to use the bathroom," you interrupt, gently touching your mother's hand. You turn your head away from her, not bothering to turn back when she calls your name.

You walk around a corner to see the fire escape latch slightly ajar. Reaching out, you grasp the level and push it out, quickly feeling the chilly Gotham air touch your cheeks.

Once your foot touches the stone with a 'clack' from your heels, you see the dark figure lying down, smoke clouding around him. He glances over at you, taking a drag of his cigarette and letting out a cloud of smoke.

"Didn't think pretty girls would come up here." This mystery guy's voice is deep, and judging by his figure, you can tell he's lanky.

"You know the latch and all."

"Are you calling me incompetent?" You cock a brow, hand on your hip with your purse in hand.

"No, I'm callin' you pretty," he says casually, taking another drag of his cigarette, not sparing you another glance. You hate to admit it, but this guy is pretty smooth, but you wouldn't tell him that.

"Who are you?" You ask, taking a few steps toward him and only turning your head to look at the night sky, which is aglow with billions of little stars. You see all the high-rise buildings, light illuminating the dark streets. It's a shame Gotham is so corrupt and unlawful.

"I should be askin' you that, seeing as you’re on my roof," he tentatively says. You can just feel the smugness in his tone, making you roll your eyes.

"You're a Wayne?" You question, arms crossed, slowly stepping closer to him.

"Somethin' like that I guess," he shrugs, which makes you let out a light laugh.

"You guess? You don't know your own family lineage?" You joke, moving to sit not completely next to him but close enough that you could feel the smoke in your nose. You could also see the outline of his face—strong jaw, pretty eyes, fluttery lashes, and nice lips.

"Why are you so curious?" He glances at you with a sly smirk on his lips. You look at him, then at the cigarette in between his fingers.

"You know smoking kills," you inform, pointing towards the cigarette. He lays his head back on the roof, his lips curving into a smirk before retaking another drag.

"You know what else kills? Poking your head around where you don't belong," he puffs out the smoke as he speaks. You turn your head away from him, trying to conceal your smile. This guy is something else, you think.

"Jason," he adds.

Your eyes widen, and your lips quirk. "Ah, you're Jason." You drag out the 'you're,' getting Jason to turn his head towards you. An inquisitive look is plastered on his face.

"So you've heard of me?" He cockily says.

"I know enough about you to know you're flakey," you raise a brow. He lets out a soft laugh.

"Mr. Wayne was looking for you, and so was everyone else," you clarify.

"Oh, please don't tell on me," he fake pleads, clearly being sarcastic. "Especially to Mr. Wayne."

You roll your eyes, though your lips threaten to smile. "I'm sensing some sarcasm."

"Well, aren't you just a modern-day Poirot.”

You widen your eyes, raising your hands. "Wait, wait. You read classic literature?" You gawk, hand coming to your chest.

"I dabble," he shrugs nonchalantly. You eye him, lip quirking.

"Well, aren't you just full of surprises?" You say, holding your two fingers out, gesturing to his cigarette. "Let me take a puff," you insist.

"Ah, ah," he tuts. "What happened to 'smoking kills?'" He raises a brow, taking a puff of the cigarette himself.

"Sue me, but I'm curious," you shrug. He eyes you, wondering if you're joking. He gives you his cigarette anyway. You take a long drag, feeling the smoke cloud your lungs.

"Easy, easy," Jason warns. "Don't take too much, or you'll—" Before he can finish, you start violently coughing, feeling your eyes well up with tears. "Cough," he finishes, taking the cigarette from your hand as you go to cover your mouth.

"You like this shit?" You say through harsh coughs.

"You get used to it," he answers, not paying attention to the question. He's more concerned about you. "You okay?" His tone isn't condescending—it carries empathy.

"Ya, ya. Took too much," you shyly smile, hiccuping a little, turning your head to look directly at him. He laughs lowly. His laugh is deep and gravelly but still sounds kind. You gulp. God, were you getting turned on by a laugh?

You were facing him head-on, and even in the shitty lighting, you could see the way his Adam's apple bobbed up and down and the way his jaw clenched. Your eyes slowly drift down his face, falling on his lips. He had stuck his tongue on his lips to wet them, giving them a glistening sheen.

"Are you thinkin' about me?" His voice is dry. You sharply move your eyes to bore into his, sticking your tongue out to wet the seam of your own lips.

"And what if I am?" You challenge. Suddenly, you can feel your own heartbeat, and your hands are clammy. You can see the gears in his brain working, trying to figure you out.

"Well, are you?" He asks roughly, putting his cigarette out on the roof. You search his eyes, gently biting your lip. His eyes follow you the whole time.

"Guess," you quipped. You hadn't realized you had scooted closer to him, close enough to where he could if he wanted to touch you. This little banter you guys had was getting you wetter by the minute. It was odd. You'd never even met this guy, but you would let him kiss you, maybe even more.

His gaze drifts from your eyes to your lips. "If I were to put my hand under your dress, what would I find?" He gruffly says. Your eyes drift back to his lips, and you bite your own as your chest rises and falls rapidly.

"What would I find?" He urges a little more assertively this time. You rapidly avert your eyes back to him, taking note of the blue hue in his eyes, which has seemingly grown darker.

"Maybe you should find out, Jason," you encourage. Once you give him the go, he's quick to move closer, crushing his lips to yours roughly. It was unlike anything you've ever felt before—like a ton of dynamite just erupted in you, leaving you feeling a buzz on your skin.

You reached up to grab the back of his neck, pushing him further on your lips. He groans as you sink one of your hands into his hair, gripping your waist in his hands and pulling you so you straddle his lap.

"Do you hook up with every girl you just meet?" You murmur into his lips, slipping your tongue between the seam of his moist lips.

"You hook up with every guy you just meet?" He imitates, in between breaths, gripping your waist tighter as you tug on the roots of his hair harder.

"Touché," you whisper, breathing labored as he presses deep kisses down your neck. He works his way down until he is kissing the top of your breast. Slowly, he brings his hands up to slip the strap of your dress down, exposing your breasts.

He kisses a straight line down the top of your breast to your sensitive nipple. His mouth is hot on your skin, especially in a place so sensitive. You moan as his mouth fully encompasses your nipple, lightly sucking, sending goosebumps down your skin.

You reach for his tie, grab it with your hand, hurriedly untie it, and throw it to the side before carefully undoing the few buttons on his jacket.

"It's a shame no one got to see your suit," you murmur as Jason returns his lips to yours, pressing feverish kisses into them before slipping his tongue into your mouth.

"Ya? Why's that?" He mumbles against your lips, as his hands fumble with his zipper trying to pull it down. You slid the jacket off of Jason's shoulder.

"Because you look fucking hot," you say, looking into his eyes, noticing the way his pupils dilate, hunger written all over his face. He quickly slips his slacks down, along with his boxers. Fumbling with the pocket of his jacket, he grabs a condom.

"Really?" You scowl, as he rips open the gold packaging with his teeth, slipping it on himself.

"What? Don't give me that look," he urges, pooling your dress up around your waist, sliding your panties to the side, as he guides the head of his cock inside your glistening cunt.

"Don't act like it didn't come in handy," he appeals as his cock slips inside you easily. You both groan at the contact, gripping each other tighter.

"Fuck, you were wet. Just slipped right in," he grits as you rock yourself against him, desperate for more friction. His hand is in your hair, pushing your face towards his to share messy, hot kisses as his other hand helps you set a pleasurable pace.

You throw your head back as he thrusts into you, eliciting a moan from you. "Fuck, Jason," you mewl as you feel his lips back on your breast, sucking and nipping with his teeth. Your hands grip tighter in his hair, hoping this will give you some kind of stability.

"Feels so good. So fuckin' good," Jason groans as he feels you clamp around him. You press your lips back to his, aching to feel the vibrations of his groans against your face. He grips the sides of your face to deepen the kiss, his teeth clashing with your own.

You continue going up and down on his cock, occasionally he thrusts himself into you to satisfy his urges and lets you grind against him to chase your own high. He takes your nipple into his mouth one last time before you moan so loud you're surprised the Gotham City Police isn't called, and Jason is spewing curses and groans as you both come.

Your bodies are both buzzing and twitching. Chests heaving so heavily you're suprised your hearts didn't just bust straight out of your chests. Jason pulls out once you aren't panting as hard, guiding you off his cock as you fix your dress. He slips the condom off, groaning at the touch, before tying it at the end. Then, he slips his jacket back on along with his slacks.

You haphazardly stand, holding onto Jason's shoulder to keep your balance. Once you gain stability, you awkwardly cough out a bye, unsure on how to make this any less weird and head back towards the fire escape. You only turn when you hear him say something. Turning on your heels, you look back at him, still in the same spot.

"I, uh, never caught your name?" He yells, his hand scratching the back of his neck.

"Didn't throw it, Jason," you shout back, making a lopsided smile grow on his face. Then, turning to go back through the fire escape, you catch a smile spread across your face as well.

Maybe being forced to attend one of Bruce Wayne's galas wasn't so bad.

a/n: jason todd = thought daughter

reblogs & comments are encouraged!

[klemen-tine]

Blowing Raspberries

Batfam x Male!Reader Platonic

@jaythes1mp Sorry this took so long and is not all in one part! But here is the first half.

Part 2

TW: Break in, Child Abuse (not the Batfam), and neglect

Publicly, Richard ‘Dick’ Grayson is the oldest Wayne sibling. Taken in by Bruce Wayne at 8-years-old, he is the first child and the oldest. In the eyes of the law and adoption papers. In the eyes of the Wayne family however, the oldest sibling title belongs to Y/N L/N. Similar to the Drakes, the L/N’s live on the other side of the Waynes, and similar to Tim, Y/N had been left home alone… a lot. 

Which meant he was over, a lot. So much so, he had his own room, Alfred made him a plate for every meal, and he was aware of their little nightly activities. Y/N L/N was a needed normalcy within the Manor, reminding them that there is more to life outside of crime fighting. 

“Did you see that new cafe?” Y/N asked, looking into Dick’s exhausted eyes while resting his chest against Jason’s head. Dick shook his head, “No. Why?” Y/N pouted, “Because you guys literally broke their windows last night.” Jason winced, remembering the shattering of glass and wide-eyed stares as he handled some thugs. 

“Please tell me that isn’t the cafe you wanted to go to today.” Dick buried his head in his hands and begged every deity that it was not that cafe. Y/N has been talking about it for weeks and finally found a time where all their schedules aligned so they could do it. 

“It was.” Jason and Dick groaned while Y/N stared at them with an annoyed expression. His arms that were wrapped around Jason tightened in a mocking chokehold, knowing that if Jason wanted to he could easily get out and have Y/N pinned. Dick groaned again, “Is… is there somewhere else you want to try?” 

“Not really.” ‘Fuck!’ Jason and Dick stared at one another, trying to figure out a way to still have this day with Y/N. If they don’t hurry, the vultures will swoop in and suggest something that will catch Y/N’s attention and– 

“Y/N, how about we got to the petting zoo.” 

“Dami!” 

“Buzz off short stack!” Y/N thumped Jason’s head with his chin, “Don’t talk to Dami like that.” The youngest Wayne smiled victoriously while his two older brothers glared at him. Dick looked offended and Jason was actually ready to strangle him. Y/N shook his head, “Dami, aren’t we going on Friday? I’m picking you up from school to go.” Damian scrunched his nose, “We can go twice.” 

Y/N couldn’t help but to chuckle, “Hmmm, those rabbits are cute.” Jason’s grip tightened, “The new bookstore in downtown! There’s a new bookstore that is supposed to have a cafe attached to it.” Damian scowled at Dick perked up, “Yeah, I forgot about that.” Y/N hummed, staring at Jason in concern, “Jay, you hate downtown.” It’s full of rich snobs and people who have nothing better to do than walk the streets in designer clothing. 

Jason made a face, “It’s our day with you, I’m fine with it as long as you’re there.” Dick gagged and Damian looked ready to chuck a knife at him. Y/N blinked at the younger man in shock before laughing, “That’s cute, okay. Let’s go there then.” He released Jason from his hold, unwrapping his arms from Jason’s neck and standing tall. Dick smiled at Y/N, who was talking to a pouting Damian and ruffling slicked back hair. 

“Alright, Y/N, I'm assuming you’re ready.” Unlike the Wayne brothers who had a father that did not care why they landed on the NEWS or magazine as long as they didn’t kill anyone, Y/N’s father was different. For someone who was always gone, he had a firm hold and opinions on Y/N’s life. 

Bruce may not care that his kids go out looking like they haven’t showered in three days, but Y/N’s dad has ordered the maids to get rid of all the ripped jeans Y/N had because the paparazzi made an opinion on them when Y/N wore them. Jason remembers listening in on that call, and numerous other calls from Mr. L/N, as he hollered at his child he did not care about. 

“You are a L/N! If you still want that last name then you will dress like a L/N!”

Unlike Dick and Jason who are dressed in jeans, Y/N is dressed in slacks and a nice polo shirt. His hair was clean and styled and the shoes he wore still shined. The aesthetic is called ‘old money’ and boy did Y/N have that. He and the Wayne siblings have become the newest trend setters in Gotham. 

Whenever the paparazzi caught them together it was always Old Gotham vs New Gotham. Slacks vs Jeans. Hair combed vs natural. Clean vs Rugged. L/N vs Wayne. 

They were the topic whenever they were out together, which was a lot. The only reason Mr. L/N hasn’t said anything is probably because Bruce is keeping his mouth shut about the child-neglect and abandonment. Point is, seeing the Wayne kids and L/N son together wasn’t odd, in fact there were jokes of Bruce Wayne adopting him, but they still always turned heads. 

“Y/N, I am telling you that is a horrible choice and you’re not gonna like it.” Said young man raised an eyebrow at Jason and tutted disappointedly, “Jay, you haven’t even read it.” The guy motioned at the cover, “Look at it! Dick! Come ‘ere and look at it!” The other made only a side glance at it and sighed, “Y/N… this is only going to lead to problems.” 

“It is literally a book about romance.” Jason screwed up his face, like someone had shoved a lemon down his throat, “But like… young adult romance. Read the classics.” 

“I have read the classics. You have read me the classics. I read them in class and if I have to read how Ms. Elizabeth Barnett falls in love with Mr. Darcy one more time I’m actually going to throw myself in traffic.” Dick agreed with Y/N on that, remembering all the time he had to read the damn book. 

“It's Elizabeth Bennett.” 

“Jay, I swear to God.” 

“Are you sure you read them because there’s no way someone who’s read them would get that name wrong.” 

“Little wing–” 

“–Dickie, maybe. But not anybody else.” 

“–Excuse you.” Y/N snorted at the now bickering brothers, watching in amusement as Dick pulled Jason’s ear and Jason to Dick’s hair. Sighing, Y/N stepped between the two. Y/N L/N is possibly the only person, other than Alfred, who would dare do such a thing. Fear was absent on his face as he calmly walked into the dog fight, and helped release their bites with gentle tugs and stern words. 

“Enough. The line is picking up at the cafe, so let's checkout and head over.” Y/N is the person who quells the fights and mends the bonds. The only person in the Manor that knew how to communicate their feelings and help others realize and communicate theirs. 

He is the kind, patient, and understanding older brother of the Batfam. Always paying attention to other’s needs and always willing to listen to someone vent their frustrations and offer sound advice. Y/N is –

“–And what about the company?! How come the sales are low this month?” 

“Father, they are riding average, it’s just the last month was a boom because–” 

“I don’t care about last month! Why are the sales low this month?!” 

– not Bruce Wayne’s ward, and therefore there isn’t much he can say in this scenario. Bruce listened and watched  Y/N slouch as Mr. L/N continued to scream and berate him from across the world. He watched the exhaustion take over Y/N’s features and the way his forehead creased, Bruce knows that a headache is now present. 

“If you still want the company then you better act like it! Enough of prancing around like the money you spend is yours!” Y/N is grateful his father hung up after that, because Y/N had a clapback to that and he’s sure his father would fly back from wherever he is just to smack him around for saying it. 

Setting his phone down on the coffee table, the weight of the conversation making his shoulders sag and melt into the armchair with a huff. Bruce chuckled at the pout, “For what it is worth, fluctuating prices are normal in businesses. As long as it doesn’t go too low, you are fine.” Y/N smiled at the man, fixing his posture and picking up the mug of coffee. 

“You heard all of that?” The man can still remember when he first met Y/N. The property alarm was triggered, and when Bruce and Alfred went out to investigate, an 8-year-old Y/N was there, his hands holding the wild raspberries and his cheeks stuffed like a chipmunk. 

He huffed at the memory, making Y/N give him a weird look. Bruce had been grateful to Y/N’s impromptu trespassing, because when Dick came into his care, a now 10-year-old Y/N had welcomed the traumatized and blubbering 8-year-old. Something Bruce had little to no idea how to handle. 

Then Jason came and that was a wild ride, followed by Steph, then Tim, and now Damian. That's just the Robins. It doesn’t include the others that have become family but never took the Robin mantle. Y/N had been there through it all, and welcomed each one with a smile and open arms. At the same time giving Bruce a raised eyebrow and icy glare that screamed, ‘Really? Another child?’ 

Y/N never faulted Bruce for his lack of communication, but he did let the man know repeatedly that while words may start fires, they can also put them out. Y/N had laid it on him one time, after a particular nasty fight with Dick and Jason. 

“For a man who loves using his vocabulary to start arguments you sure don’t have the vocabulary to fix them. What are you, a toddler?” 

Mending things with Y/N is always easy, because Y/N does not hold grudges. Not to mention having the emotional intelligence of a therapist, Y/N was always in-tuned to his emotions and whether he was projecting or not. Or if anyone else was. Living in a manor filled with people who have traumatic backstories and skeletons in the closets, Y/N has become the voice of reason and unbiased opinions. Similar to Alfred, just without the sass. 

“Do you still like raspberries?” Bruce asked, and Y/N nodded, “You ask this every time a celebration of some sort comes up and the answer is always the same. Yes, I still love raspberries.” Y/N had once confided to Bruce, over a glass of wine, how he had asked his father if he could paint the bookshelves in his room. Little did Mr. L/N know that the color would be burgundy, the closest color to a raspberry he could get without poking someone’s eye out, and when his father found out he had the bookshelves removed and set ablaze. 

Y/N got his ass handed to him when Mr. L/N came back from his trip, and was then prohibited from decorating his room without prior approval of design and permission. 

Bruce had the bookshelves in Y/N’s room in the manor painted burgundy, and when Y/N saw them, it was like watching a child be told that they were not the bad child. The relief and the path to healing across his face as he took in the bookshelves.

The man watched Y/N sip his cup of coffee, watching how exhaustion seemed to seep off of him like cologne and fill the air with his tired and somewhat annoyed state. Phone calls from Mr. L/N we’re never received well by anybody, and Jason and Tim have more than once thought about sending the hateful man a few messages. Damian offered to ambush him when he came home. 

Y/N quickly shot those down.

Tim came from nowhere, his face screwed tight and body tense. Y/N gave him a once over, before making space for the college student on the couch. He gave him a worried look-over, “Is everything alright?” Tim melted into Y/N’s side, huffing and grumbling about something. 

Bruce’s phone vibrated, and it was a message from Tim sent before he got down here. 

‘It’s in Cabo.’ Bruce huffed, already knowing that if Tim was listening then so was everyone else. Referring to Mr. L/N as an ‘it’ seemed to be everyone’s favorite pastime. Everyone but Y/N’s, but as long as it wasn’t said around him then it was fine. 

“You’re going to the Gala, right?” Tim asked and Y/N nodded, “Of course, when have I ever missed one?” Tim continued to grumble a bit, but relaxed into Y/N’s side as he ran his fingers through Tim’s messy hair. God he loves it when Y/N does this. There was barely anything better than Y/N’s head massages, easily lulling him to a calm state as everyone mentally prepared for the Gala tonight. 

When Y/N had turned 13, that is when he started showing up to the Galas representing L/N Industries, and he would be in Bruce’s care while there. Whoever Bruce met, Y/N was expected to make a great impression. Bruce never missed the way Y/N would sometimes stare at the Wayne kids in jealousy as they got to do whatever they want, while he is forced to be an adult and try to win other adults over. 

Then forced to be yelled at afterwards by his father on the phone afterwards for something miniscule. Either someone commented on a piece of clothing, or how he wasn’t smiling, anything that was negative Y/N got yelled at for. It was like Mr. L/N didn’t know how to do anything else other than yell at his child. 

Tim took no offense when the fingers in his hair stopped moving, and Y/N’s body became limp. The other was knocked out on the couch, napping away the stress and enjoying the weekend. Unlike Tim who had Bruce’s help when managing Wayne Enterprises, Y/N is all on his own. Learning from his dad’s assistant, and also Bruce’s, Y/N was basically alone when his father had forced him to take the mantle. In face only, because as far as Mr. L/N was concerned, the company’s profit was still his profit. None of it going to Y/N, except as a monthly allowance. 

Jason had once said he should just stop managing the company, and if his father loved it enough, then he’ll take over. Y/N chuckled-the bags under his eyes were deep and he had just gotten over a stress cold- and he said that although his father may care a lot about the profit, it was his late mother’s company and he wouldn’t want to embarrass her soul by purposefully failing. 

However, now all that company did was cause him stress and make him sick more frequently. Bruce had said it was probably stress from his father, and not so much the company, but that didn’t stop them all from wishing the company would just go away. 

Tim looked up Y/N through his eyelashes, taking in the similar dark circles they both shared and how Y/N looks paler than usual, and he knows that Y/N’s health would only get worse if they targeted the company. His oldest brother would do everything in his power to keep the company afloat, and it would be devastating on both sides. Y/N would run himself ragged trying to keep it alive and that would mean less time with them. 

“Let him rest, Tim. He needs it.” Everyone has asked Bruce if he plans to do something. However, there isn’t much Bruce can do now that Y/N is an adult. He’s offered a room in a manor for Y/N to stay at forever, but Y/N has always been a bit hesitant about leaving the L/N’s home. Bruce can understand why. 

Aged blue eyes observed the steady rise and fall of Y/N’s chest, and he wondered if there was anything that could convince Y/N to stay here. 

++++

“Mr. L/N, what a surprise.” A surprise it is too, because instead of Y/N being here, it is his father. The one who was in Cabo earlier today. The man smiled, looking nothing like Y/N’s, and he held out a hand, “It has been a while. I figured it was time to show my face and give my son a rest.” Dick stared at Mr. L/N in shock and weariness, not liking how he said ‘his son.’ If it was a jab at Bruce, it didn’t land. Brucie Wayne, the social bug he was, laughed and clapped his hand on Mr. L/N’s shoulder. 

“Is Y/N not showing up?” The man’s eyebrow twitched, “No, unfortunately he felt under the weather so he’s taking a break.” Dick’s eyes narrowed, and Bruce’s smile faltered, “Is that so? How unfortunate, he’s fun to talk to.” Mr. L/N’s smile tightened, “Indeed.” 

The Gala was tense, at least it was for the Wayne family, because Y/N never misses a Gala. Never. Dick saved a slice of raspberry cheesecake, for when Y/N comes over tomorrow. He’s going to be upset that he missed a fresh slice, but knowing Y/N, he’ll worry about missing the Gala. The cheesecake will act as reassurance that no one is mad. They just had to wait until tomorrow, when Y/N will show up. 

Only he didn’t. Dick can’t remember the last time he hasn’t seen Y/N in a 24-hour period, but he does know that he didn’t like it. Almost like there was a force keeping his shoulders tight and chest heavy. Looking around, he could already see the effects it was having on others. 

He didn’t answer his phone, and when they called the L/N Manor, it was one of the maids picking up and stating that Y/N was either out, sleeping, or feeling under the weather. Which doesn’t make sense because when Y/N is sick, he is always over at the Wayne manor. No one makes a better chicken noodle soup than Alfred. 

They let it go. Maybe Y/N wants to be home because his dad is home? 

Then the next day, there was still no Y/N. Not a text message, not a phone call, complete radio silence. Following radio silence while on patrol, radio silence from Y/N had to be one of the more terrifying forms of silence. 

There was nothing. His father left late last night, and usually that would mean Y/N would be over. He would be over complaining about his dad and how he needs to work harder. He’d get a stress cold that would last for two days before he would be back to normal.

Every phone call, every text message going unanswered. 

‘Y/N, I swear I’m about to break into your house. Please answer.’ The threat was real and Dick meant every word. He’s talked Jason, Damian, and surprisingly Tim from doing it but now four days of radio silence was enough to make even Bruce stir-crazy. Batman has become a little more violent throughout the week, and Bruce Wayne a little more stressed looking. 

‘Hey! Sorry for the silence, I’m just not feeling too well. I’ll see you in another few days.’ Everyone read the text message, and everyone’s mind filled with the same idea. 

“Honestly, with how often he’s with us you’d think he knows better than to lie.” Damian’s nose scrunched, eyeing the message as if it spit in his face. Tim shrugged, “It just means he’s hiding something.” 

Bruce said nothing, falling into the role of silent protector. 

“You are not actually going over in your Bat costume are you?” 

In the L/N Manor 

Y/N walked  the dark hallways back to his room. Under his arm was a book and in his other hand was a cup of coffee, still steaming and warming his fingers. The lightning that occasionally flashed filled the area with white light, casting long shadows and creating an eerie atmosphere. 

When Y/N was younger, he used to sprint back to his room. He hated how dark and silent the hallways are, reminding him that he is alone in a place that does not want him. When he whispered to Dick that he was scared of the lightning, Dick had told Bruce and sure enough Y/N would be spending nights at the Wayne manor whenever it was forecasted to thunderstorm. 

Y/N had gotten over the fear, but he still occasionally slept over when the forecast predicted rain. Just because he no longer feared it, didn’t mean he liked it. 

Pausing to look out the window like some gothic prince trapped in a tower, Y/N recalled the argument he had with his dad. The older L/N making a surprise visit and berating his child when he first saw him and when he left. Y/N wondered if with the allowance he was given, if he could just move out. Apartments in the upper end of Gotham were expensive, and he’d never hear the end of it if he moved to East Gotham. 

Not to mention, if he did leave to move out on his own, he’d be further from the Wayne family. Sure, Jason and Dick live on their own, and it wasn’t like Tim or Damian needed him around all the time, but it was home for him. 

Maybe, he’s the one that needs them.

Lightning flashed and there was another reflection in the window. 

“Ahhh!” Y/N threw his cup of coffee at the stranger behind him, and only paused in throwing the book when he saw the familiar cowl. 

“Bruce! What the hell?! Oh my God, oh my God, I think I just lost like 10 years of my life.” Y/N clasped a hand over his heart, trying to calm the organ. Taking deep breaths, he finally managed to steady his heart beat and scrunched his nose at the older man. To which, Bruce Wayne glared back, “What happened to your face?” 

‘Oh shit.’ Y/N sighed, “Nothing Bruce. I just fell, but what are you doing in my house? Did…did you break in?” Y/N tried to get around the taller and bigger man, but Bruce grabbed his arm. He spun Y/N around and thanks to the flash of lightning, Bruce’s jaw clenched at the fading bruises on Y/N’s face. 

“Did F/N do this?” 

“Bruce, I told you I just fell.” The lenses on the cowl narrowed, and Y/N saw the frown grow on the man’s face. Sighing, Y/N scrunched nose and winced when a bruise scrunched with it, “Honestly though Bruce, how did you even get in here? No, how did you even guess this hallway?” 

“You’re rooms this way.”

“Ahhhhh!” Y/N screamed and ran into Bruce’s side for protection against the voice. 

“Dick! Ho-wha- why are you here?!” 

“We were worried.” This time Y/N only flinched, and whirled around to see Damian in the Robin costume. He gaped at the pre-teen, “Oh my God, you all are just spawning out of nowhere.” Damian grabbed his hand, and Y/N couldn’t help but to hold the youngest’s hand. Muscle memory. 

“Y/N, you’re face,” Dick whispered, gently tracing the swollen and discolored skin, “We thought you were sick.” Y/N smiled, leaning into the palm of Dick’s hand, “I was. I’m just getting over it, as for the bruises… Like I was telling Bruce, I just fell.” 

Damian’s grip on Y/N’s hand tightened and the oldest sibling smiled down at him, “What’s wrong Dami?” The youngest gave a small glare through the lenses of the Robin mask, “I find your lies insulting and belittling, Y/N. The truth would be appreciated before things get more drastic.” 

“...Excuse me?” Y/N tried to remove his hand from Damian’s grip, and panicked when Robin refused to let go. 

“Y/N, please be honest. What happened?” Dick, in his Nightwing costume, rested his hands on Y/N's shoulders and tried to coax the truth out of the person he sees as his oldest brother. It only made the other tense, and tried to get out of Damian’s grip. 

“Guys, you’re scaring me.” 

“Y/N, what happened?” Bruce’s voice did nothing to ease the fear that Y/N was experiencing, and for the first time ever in the time he’s known the Wayne family, Y/N didn’t want to be around them. He struggled some more to get away from them, but with Robin’s grip on his hand, Nightwing’s hands on his shoulders, and Batman’s gaze keeping him in place, Y/N found it harder to move. 

Batman sighed, and with a nod that Y/N would have missed if he wasn’t focused on the man, Nightwing’s hand moved closer to Y/N’s neck. The other’s eyes widened, his one free hand moving to stop Nightwing. 

“Wa-”

“Good night, Y/N.” His vision went dark and the only thing he registered was a pair of arms catching him before his body hit the floor. 

++++

Y/N woke with a start, in a very familiar room, with raspberry painted bookshelves and dark sheets. His arms shot up to his face, and bandages rested on his cheeks. Looking at his arm and seeing the sleeves of his pajama pants, Y/N closed his eyes in misery and knew that if he were to lift the sleeves, there would be bandages. 

Sitting up, Y/N grunted and rested his forehead in his hand. 

“Oh good, you’re awake.” 

“Jay…” Y/N watched the other carefully, watching the taller and bigger man silently move across the room to sit next to him. His nose scrunched, “Your brothers and father have some explaining to do. Where are they?” Jason shrugged, “Out. Don’t worry about that, but Y/N, why did you hide this from us?” Y/N stared at Jason for a bit, processing the question and sighing irritably. 

“Cause it's not a big deal. This was the only time and–” 

“One time is still too many times!” Jason yelled, startling Y/N. Wide E/C eyes stared into Jason’s furious blue eyes, the slightest hint of green starting to slowly take over. Y/N gulped, “Jason, it’s fine. I am here now, right?” He reached out and grasped Jason’s larger hand, watching the other calm down with deep breaths. Those blue eyes of his seem to fall on every bandage across Y/N’s face, before looking back down at their clasped hands. 

“Everyone was a mess, you know that right?” Y/N chuckled at him, chalking it up to Jason being overdramatic, “You guys are too funny. I know me going radio silent wasn’t appreciated, but you don’t need to guilt trip me further.” 

“I’m not joking around, Y/N. Everyone was a mess.” There was something in Jason’s tone that had Y/N pausing. His E/C eyes landed on Jason and watched how those eyes continued to glow green. The larger man took a deep breath and seemed to calm whatever raging thoughts he was having, “But it's fine now, because you are here.” Y/N furrowed his brow, but smiled nevertheless, “Yeah.” 

Silence overtook the room and Y/N is still unsure how to proceed. It wasn’t rare for the Batfamily to be a bit… dramatic. For fucks sake Bruce dresses as a giant furry and terrorizes criminals. However, there was something in Jason’s tone that had Y/N stilling. Contemplating his next words and wondering if they were the correct ones to say. 

“You’re awake.” Y/N’s head snapped to the door and standing there was Damian. He gave a smile to the youngest Wayne, “Damian, you're not one to usually enter without knocking.” The youngest strolled over and eyes Jason’s and Y/N’s hands, “I heard you two talking and figured it would be okay if I entered.” Y/N pursed his lips, “Well, true but Dami you should still–” 

“Father wants to talk to you, after dinner.” Green eyes met E/C and there it was again. A glint of something sinister lurking underneath the green. Y/N gulped and outstretched an arm. His palms up like he was approaching a dog, asking to pet it. Damian took the invitation and fell into Y/N’s embrace. Crawling onto Y/N’s bed and into the space underneath Y/N’s arm and against his chest, Damian nuzzled into the space with a content smile. 

Y/N felt his heart rate spike, something alerting him that he is surrounding himself with something dangerous. Which is preposterous. Yeah, Damian was a little psychotic and so was Jason, but they wouldn’t harm Y/N. They wouldn’t hurt anyone that didn’t deserve it. 

Yet, Y/N couldn’t shake the feeling of something being wrong. 

“When is dinner, Dami?” The younger boy hummed, “At 5:30.” Y/N glanced at the clock reading 5:25. Sighing, gently nudged the two away, “C’mon we have five minutes. Alfred will be upset with us for being late.” Damian grumbled while Jason outwardly expressed his discontent. When Y/N fully stood up, he noted that his clothes were different. 

“Who… who changed me?” Jason shrugged and Damian continued walking. Y/N looked back down at the sweatpants he was now wearing and the oversized shirt. None of which are his. 

“I-I should change first–” 

“C’mon Y/N, no one cares.” 

“Indeed, Drake has shown up before looking horrid. You look wonderful, like always.” Y/N said nothing to address those comments, but the time clicking on the clock had Y/N forgoing dressing and instead grabbing his house slippers. Damian was quick to grab his hand and Jason walked behind like he was protecting Y/N from something. 

The walk was silent, and there were some bruises on Y/N’s body that had him wincing sometimes. Nevertheless, when the sound of chatter began to echo through the halls, Y/N controlled his expressions and braced for the question and answers he wanted. 

“Well, look who finally woke up,” Dick joked and Y/N rolled his eyes, “I don’t want to hear that from the people who broke into my house.” He said it as a jest, but some part of Y/N wanted to mean every word he said. The three culprits didn’t even pretend to look guilty. 

Y/N gave Bruce a pointed look, he busied himself by pouring himself, Y/N, Dick, and Jason wine. Damian released Y/N’s hand to go sit at his respective seat, between Tim and Bruce, while Y/N took his between Bruce’s and Dick’s. Dick smiled at him, “Happy to have you at dinner. They have been quiet for the past few days.”

“If that is your way of saying I talk too much Dick, may I remind you who is the reason we had to enact a five minute quiet period during meals before.” The man laughed, unbothered by that little fact being thrown into the air. 

Dinner continued with the usual chatter, arguments, snide remarks, and dirty looks. Y/N’s absence was barely brought up, and instead he got filled in about what he missed while he was radio-silent. No one questioned the bruises on his face, or the now open secret that Y/N had tried to keep quiet about. 

“Y/N, please see me in my studies.” Bruce gently squeezed Y/N’s shoulder and Y/N followed, thanking Alfred as he did so and waving to all the brothers. The walk was tense, and something kept stirring in Y/N’s stomach that he was walking into something dangerous. Not a trap, because a trap means Y/N didn’t see it or feel it coming. However, he can feel this one. He can feel this one coming, something that would have his life changing, and yet he still kept walking forward. It’s the Waynes. His family. 

They wouldn’t do anything he didn’t like. 

Bruce’s study was as dark and aesthetic as Y/N remembers. A dark oak wood desk, bookshelves, the laptop and monitors, and papers. Y/N rarely set foot in here, mainly because there was never a need to, but he remembers being young and playing hide-n-seek in here with Dick. 

Bruce turned and gently cupped Y/N’s bruised face, turning it slightly to take in each discolored patch of skin and open wounds. Y/N smiled, “Bruce, it’s fine. I’m fine. You and everyone else are just being overdramatic.” 

“Is that what all of this is? Us overreacting?” Y/N gave a nervous chuckle at Bruce’s tone, one he’s heard when the man was Batman. 

“I mean, considering you broke into my house, that seems excessive.” Bruce released Y/N’s face and walked behind his desk, and motioned to a stack of papers. 

“Y/N, if entering your home is considered excessive, then I don’t know how you are going to handle this.” 

“Break in, Bruce. It was a break in, and what are you talking about?” Y/N picked up the paper, and quickly scanned the document. Bruce watched the color drain from Y/N’s face and horror take over those bright E/C eyes. They flickered from the top of the page back to the bottom, and then to Bruce and back to the paper. 

Y/N’s mouth opened and closed, trying to form words he was desperate to say. 

Wayne Enterprise Acquires L/N Industries

Bought. Bruce bought L/N Industries. Bruce bought the company from Y/N’s father, because Y/N isn’t the owner, and there is no way in hell that Y/N would have ever signed off on that. His mother’s company, now just a part of the Wayne monopoly. 

“Wha-what is- Why- Bruce! Bruce, what the hell is this?” Eyes filled with betrayal and anger as Y/N glared at Bruce. The man sighed, “It is as it says. L/N Industries in now under Wayne Enterprise-” 

“But why?! You’ve never shown any interest in the company.” Bruce wasn’t interested in L/N Industries. Wayne Enterprise was not a monopoly, and they didn’t buy companies unless that company was already going bankrupt. Bruce was interested in Y/N’s health, and vengeance. 

“Don’t take it personally, because it's not at you.” Y/N rolled his eyes, “It sure feels like it. Bruce, you know what this company means to me, you can’t just–” 

“Well I did.” Bruce met Y/N’s gaze head on, “The company is not in your name, you do not reap the profits, this acquisition was not a jab at you.” Y/N knows who it's a jab at, and he understands why Bruce is angry. However, it does not excuse the fact that this was a jab at the L/N family. 

Y/N clenched his jaw, “There’s no way he just signed it over like that.” Bruce handed him another piece of paper and sure enough, there was his father’s signature. Y/N stared at the inked lines, wondering just how had Bruce gotten that signature so quickly. 

“Blackmail really makes people move faster than the Flash.” 

“Wha… what blackmail?” Bruce raised an eyebrow and Y/N closed his eyes in misery, “Bruce, I get it. I do. He’s not a good father, but you didn’t have to buy the company. He’s literally going to ret-”

“You and I both know he would never retire. You would be working to the bone for him while he reaps all the profit.” Y/N rolls his eyes, and opens his mouth to say something but Bruce cuts him off, “Do NOT roll your eyes at me! Y/N this is serious.” 

Momentarily taken aback by the tone of voice, Y/N stared at a fuming Bruce. He processed the reaction and felt the heat in his stomach return, “Excuse you! You literally bought my family’s company, kind of if not really kidnapped me, and broke into my home! I have every right to be upset, let alone roll my eyes at you.” 

“That place wasn’t your home and you know it.” 

“Doesn’t change anything! That's like saying a break-in at a hotel room doesn’t count because the person doesn’t live in the hotel room.” Y/N could feel his heart rate pick up, and the reality of it all began setting in. 

“Holy shit. Fucking hell Bruce.” 

“Language.” 

“Do not ‘language’ me! Bruce, what the actual hell! All of this is way out of proportion for what happened.” Bruce slammed his hands on his desk, making some papers fly and the cup holding his pens fell. Blue eyes filled with rage glared at Y/N, “You can’t even say what happened! He hit you, Y/N. He beat you like a dog, and animal abusers still go to jail. He’s getting off with only losing the company. 

“And I know that those bruises are the only ones we do see!”  Y/N glared at Bruce, fighting back tears and biting his lips. Bruce sighed, his shoulders deflating and a pained expression on his face. He walked around the desk and hugged Y/N, bringing his son close, “Y/N, I’m sorry. I am. You’ll still be running the company, and will have a final say in things. It's just… God, Y/N. Not hearing from you and then seeing you like that...” Bruce took a deep breath, trying to control his emotions, "It was terrifying, Y/N. How could I let you stay there when all of that was done to you?"

Y/N wrapped his arms around Bruce, ignoring the feeling of dread of doing so. He ignored how Bruce’s arms tightened around him, “Oh Y/N, please. Please stay here where you are safe.” 

He didn’t want to admit that it sounded more of an order than a request. This was Bruce! His father in everything but blood and paper. 

“Just… just please don’t do that again.” 

“It won’t happen again. I promise.” 

______________________________________________________________

Not a whole lot of Yandere, but thats why there will be two parts! Not just one.